Treacherous Teatime
by caffeinebeast
Summary: Arthur finds himself in a bit of a bind - and his 2p! counterpart Oliver is holding the ropes. What will become of this, indeed? (just a crack fic, and I know the chapters are short)
1. Chapter 1

"Welcome to _my_ world, Arthur."

Someone ripped the blindfold off from around his eyes. England blinked in the bright light. He was starting to get more than a little annoyed.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Now that he could see, he looked around to catch a glimpse of his captor, but he was no where to be seen. Calming down a bit, England looked at the room they were in, confused. "Are we... are we back in my study?"

Sure enough, there was his desk and sofa, and the fireplace in the wall. But everything was covered in fluffy pink and purple lace and pillows. He tried to comprehend what exactly was going on, but then the door opened, and a man wearing a mask and jacket came in. He crept toward the tied up nation, and leered over him.

"Who- What's going on, here?" England pushed himself as far back into his chair as he could.

"Why, Arthur don't be so scared." The voice was the same the one from earlier, happy and sweet. A pale hand reached up and unzipped the jacket, then in one swift motion removed it and the mask, revealing someone very similar to the nation who watched in disbelief. "It's a little silly to be scared of yourself, after all."

**so recently i decided i wanted to do something on fanfic where i could post something everyday, so i'll be doing little chapters (maybe a little longer and maybe shorter) and try my hardest to update everyday. i honestly dont know what my plans are for this story but i suppose we will see.**

**yes, this is a 2p fanfiction, and 2p England is my fav so thhat is why i am doing this. that is all.**


	2. Chapter 2

England's draw dropped. The man in front of him looked almost exactly like him, except his hair was nearly pink, his eyes were pastel blue, and he wore the creepiest of grins upon his face.

"Who- who are you?"

"Why, I'm you, Arthur. Isn't it obvious?"

Shaking his head, England clenched his eyes shut and tried in vain to wake up from what must have been some awful dream.

_This person isn't real. These people... they don't really exist. He's just some figment of my imagination, like from when France told me those stories when we were younger. I'll open my eyes, and he'll be gone... _

England opened his eyes.

"Tch, tch, Arthur. It really is rude to ignore your host like that."

**and here's day 2... idk, i think i like where this could lead, like with the france thing. **

**oh, and on the negativity over the last "chapter": i understand if you aren't interested and if you think it isn't the best writing method. but i needed a way to learn how to brainstorm ideas better, and this is what i decided to do. **

**and thank you to those who followed it already... gee wiz i only posted it yesterday! ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

There were few instances in which England had ever found himself absolutely terrified, and even fewer that he would willingly admit to. Among them would be the times he had not been sure he'd be able to survive a particular voyage, and the times he had lost track of his little America for a few minutes too long. Another, possibly more embarrassing scenario, involved a camping trip that France had convinced him to go on. He had snuck out of his Mummy Britannica's house, and met France deep in the woods. Of course, France had one singular purpose on his mind: to scare the ever-loving crap out of the younger nation.

And, man, did he. France told him a story about ghosts and spirits that hid in the woods, and attached themselves to anyone they could. When they had been attached long enough, they developed a body almost exactly like that of their host, only more sinister and evil. Then, if it ever came across the original again, it would do everything in it's power to destroy them. And when England had nearly chewed off every last one of his fingernails, Prussia and Spain jumped from the trees, dressed up as France and England. He had screamed so loudly, his mummy had known he was coming from the second he started running, leaving a very amused trio behind him.

There was no way the person who stood before him now was the embodiment of the stupid ghost story, he told himself.

But that didn't stop him from releasing every childish scream and tear he had in his body.

**Hmmm... could this be some back story? I'm thinking of coming up with my own headcannon thing for the 2p! characters existence. I've got a few ideas, so we'll see :)**

**And thanks for the positivity!**


	4. Chapter 4

"SHUT UP!" The pastel colored country cupped his hands over his ears, his green and pink eyes flaming with anger. He slapped a hand over England's lips. "B_e quiet before I sew your mouth shut with a needle._" He hissed.

England started shivering. No, he had not been nearly this horrified for a very, _very_ long time. He felt a little silly, crying. But he also felt it was extremely justified, seeing as the one thing he had feared more than anything when he was little was standing right in front of him.

The other man stepped back and wiped his forehead. His angry expression faded and his blushing cheeks of freckles turned up into an embarrassed smile. "There now. I do apologize for raising my voice. I don't usually do that. Now, I think it's about time I introduce myself. My name, is Oliver." He bowed slightly and took hold of the few of England's exposed fingers. "I am _so_ pleased to finally meet you after all these years. Shall we get started?"

**Huh. I can't decide how I feel about this one. It's short, though I promise they'll get longer, if only a bit. I guess this helps define my interpretation of Oliver, and how Arthur feels about him. Tomorrow I promise I'll start in on the actual story.**


	5. Chapter 5

"So you want to tell me what the bloody hell is actually going on here? You didn't bring me all this way just to serve me tea." England shifted in the chair, testing his bonds when his other self wasn't looking.

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur..." Oliver laughed as he poured the steaming liquid into cups and then scooped heaping spoonfuls of sugar into each one. "After all this time, I'm still surprised by your extensive vocabulary."

"My apologies-" England continued to wriggle his hands. He had almost gotten one arm near freedom when the other man turned back to him, holding a tray with tea and cake on it. He straightened up and asked, "What do you mean, 'all this time'?"

Oliver looked at his tray and blushed. "It's a little embarrassing, but I just couldn't stand the thought of tracking you down and killing you before I got to know you. You just seemed far too fascinating."

"Killing me." England stated the words with a bit of a squeak and a nod of his head. Initial shock aside, he felt a slight bit of understanding of the situation. "Bloody brilliant."

"I'm afraid so." Oliver sighed. "But, it's what we do."

"'We'?" England watched as Oliver placed a rather large portion of cake onto his plate and sat in the chair opposite him.

"The others. Surely you knew about the others?" He took a bite of the white cake in his mouth, and smiled as he chewed and swallowed.

England honestly wasn't sure himself whether he did or not. He just didn't want to admit to himself what he thought he did know. "No. I'm not even sure who you are."

All was silent as the second man finished his slice of cake and patted his mouth with a lavender colored cloth. He picked up his tea and sipped it before speaking.

"I think you do know, Arthur. Perhaps my family can help jog your memory, hm?"

**Whew. Glad to get that over with. Sorry I missed updating yesterday but you know, mother's day and how that can be. But here's an extra long chapter to make up for it. I'm out of school now so I have way too much free time. **

**I realized I have ended nearly every chapter with some kind of eerie statement from Oliver. Hm. I'll have to change that. Can't be getting too predicable. D:**

**Also, I am surprised by the amount of followers and views this has gotten. I haven't even written that much...**

**Thanks for reading though!**


	6. Chapter 6

England wasn't quite sure what had happened after Oliver finished his tea and cake. All he knew was one second he was contemplating what the man could have meant by 'family', and the next, everything went dark. He awoke to voices and darkness.

"Where-" He blinked his eyes again, and rolled his neck. His head felt like he'd been bashed up against a wall multiple times. Feeling wet on his ear, he rubbed it on his shoulder, and saw red seeping into his jacket sleeve. There was a bleeding gash somewhere on the side of his head. England groaned a little loudly, cursing under his breath, then wished he hadn't.

"Look who's awake, old man." The voice sounded oddly familiar, but it was laced with a tad bit of malice. It was followed by coughing and hacking.

"Allen, would you _please _refrain from smoking inside." The coughing was apparently coming from Oliver.

"How many times do I hafta tell you, call me _Al. _And I'm not smoking."

"Just because I can't see you doesn't mean-"

The light flicked on.

"Why don't you hosers just shut up? I have places to be, you know."

"Thank you, Matthieu." Oliver, who had apparently been addressing the man who had turned on the light, turned to England. "Arthur, _this _is my family. Won't you please say hello to Matthieu, Francois, and Allen-"

"_It's Al._"

England once again found himself unable to believe what he was witnessing. Besides the purple and pink clad man he had already met, before him stood what had to be America, France, and Canada's counterparts.

"Please forgive my son, he tends to be a little rude and... excessive." Oliver looked at the cut above England's ear and gestured to Allen, who was holding a large baseball bat with nails hammered into it.

"You aren't my dad. And I'm tired of this shit. I'm leaving." Allen took the cigarette that he had been holding behind his back and dropped it to the floor, grinding it under his foot as he turned for the door.

"Allen Jones, you stop right now." Oliver stamped his foot to the ground, and spoke with an unpleasant edge to his voice.

"What're you gonna do, huh, old man?" The other America stopped by the door, his own voice starting to sound a little nervous.

England would have thought the whole ordeal a bit entertaining, a burly guy like Allen seemingly frightened by the scrawny, pastel colored Oliver. But every instinct in his body screamed telling him just how dangerous the whole situation was. He might of even felt a little sorry for Allen, if he wasn't too concerned for his own well being.

"Don't you dare walk out that door." Oliver's entire demeanor darkened.

Allen laughed, stuck the cigarette between his teeth and reached for the doorknob.

"Al..." Matthieu groaned slightly, rubbing his forehead.

"Aw, let 'im 'ave it." The fourth man, who England assumed to be Francois, spoke for the first time. He was leaning in the corner of the room, biting down on his own joint.

The rest all seemed to happen rather quickly. First, Oliver seemed to produce a jagged knife from out of nowhere. Then, he practically flew across the room, wrapping his arms around Allen's head and legs around his back, the knife poised just above his neck.

"_I said to stop, Allen._"

"For the love of- Get off of me!" He swiveled on his feet, trying to pry Oliver of of him. The more he moved, the closer the knife came to his throat, until it was dangerously close to slicing right through the skin. England watched as red droplets started to run down the edge of the blade.

"STOP!"

**Ah yes. I shall leave you with a cliffhanger. MUAHAHAHA!**

**I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I've just been so busy with graduating and planning to go out of town this weekend. HOPEFULLY I can start updating on a daily basis like I planned to.**

**Thanks again for the support this has gotten. I'm honestly quite surprised. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

The commotion in the room stilled as the four counter-countries slowly turned to look at the one man tied up in the chair, who paled as he realized that shouting out was quite possibly not the best decision.

"Excuse me?" Oliver said softly, without moving from his place on Allen's back.

"Oh, well..." England gulped. Why had he said anything? They had been paying him absolutely no attention, allowing him time to start and free himself, which he had almost been successful in, but something about Allen's uncanny resemblance to America made him frantic. For a moment, he had almost forgotten that the one being attacked by England's own replica wasn't America, but his counterpart.

"I think yer guy here is a little on the sentimental side." Matthieu crossed his arms, rolling his tongue over his teeth and spitting something onto the floor behind him. Whatever it was smelled like maple syrup.

"Oh is he?" A dark grin spread over Oliver's face once again. Without hesitation, he quickly raised his knife and thrust it into Allen's stomach, jumping down off of him in the process.

England watched in shock as Allen coughed up blood and crumpled to his knees. He pulled the knife out and tossed it aside, holding one hand to his mouth and the other to his gut, which was bleeding profusely.

"God damn it, Oliver... I just got this jacket." He threw up large amount of blood, then dropped to his side on the ground, groaning in pain.

Picking up his knife, Oliver wiped it on a pink handkerchief, then made his way back over to England.

"It seems you got your ropes a little loose... Would you like some help with that?" He chuckled as he held a finger up behind him. "Francois?"

"I'm not doin' eet."

Closing his eyes in slight frustration, Oliver's smile never faded. He asked again. "Matthieu?"

The large man came over and retied the ropes, which cut into England's wrists. He was still too much in shock to care.

"You just... You just _killed _him... just like that..."

Again, Oliver laughed, and there was also a bit of amusement coming from the otherwise indifferent Frenchman in the corner.

"Arthur... Are you really that worried about him?"

He gave no response other than a look of aghast horror.

"Oh don't get so worked up... Surely you know we don't die?"

"Don't... die?" He flashed a look back at the muddled Allen, laying in a pool of his own blood, unmoving.

Oliver shook his head. "Remember those stories you heard as a little child?"

England swallowed. Was he saying the stories France had told him were actually... true? He started to sweat.

"'e remembers." Francois stood up, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his toe.

"You mean to tell me... But that isn't possible!"

Allen's body started to move. He rose onto his hands and knees, and turned his face, which was covered in dripping red liquid. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Dude, you had better believe it."

**AHA! I updated on time this time. I'm glad the chapters have progressed the way they have. So much more fun when I get all the ideas at once. **

**And now you are seeing why I rated it the way I did. (Also, I read the guidelines, but I am unsure of whether it should be rated M instead of T. If you think it should, please let me know so I can change it.)**

**Oh, and I looked and apparently they make maple syrup flavored chewing tobacco. I thought 2p! Canada would appreciate that.**

**Before I go, just a thank you for those who have read this far. It makes me feel good knowing people somewhat look forward to me posting.**


	8. Chapter 8

_I must be dreaming... it's the only possible explanation. _

England inhaled and exhaled wildly as he tried in one final attempt to wake himself from his hellish nightmare.

"Arthur, please open your eyes."

_I can't look. He will be there. They'll all be there. _England listened to the sounds.

"'e's ignoring you." Grumbles from the corner.

"I am aware, Francois." A sweetly forced tone.

"Just saying... I told you eet was a waste of time." More matter-of-fact annoyance.

"Yeah, and what *cough* are we doing it for anyway, Oli? What does he got that we don't have?" Weakly put arguments.

"Al, if I were you I'd sit down, eh?" Said half with concern, half with threat.

"I'm fine, Mattie, mind your own business. *cough* Now tell me why the hell we have to waste our time, tracking them down and killing them, *cough* when there is absolutely nothing in it for us, huh?"

"You know better than to question me, Allen." Twinge of flaming anger mixed with politeness."

"You'd think he would, eh?" Amusement.

England swallowed. What were they arguing about? Why was he even there? He slowly opened his eyes.

Allen was standing boldly over Oliver, who had his knife again to the towering man's throat. Francois and Matthieu were off to the side ignoring the situation, minding their tobacco.

"Kill me all over again, Oli. You want me to stay dead, don't you?"

"Where would be the fun in that, poppet?"

England felt his bonds. No way was he loosening them this time. He was beginning to think just listening and trying to figure out what was going on would be his best plan of action. So he dd just that.

He listened to his captors squabble, delaying what he feared to be his imminent doom.

**OoooOOOoooOOOooohhhh creepy... or was it forced? It was forced, wasn't it? Darn. Here's the thing, I know where I want the story to go now, but I can't seem to get it there. So hold tight for a couple more probably crappy chapters, and it'll get better, i promise.**

**Also: this already has 1000+ views. How did that even happen? Thank you guys for reading, and for favoriting, and for following, and for reviewing. It really means a lot. And please review, it honestly helps.**


	9. Chapter 9

"Oh, cut eet out, you two."

"What?" Both Oliver and Allen turned and snapped, simultaneously.

"Fran's right. Are we goin' to do this or what, eh?"

Huffing, Oliver stepped back from Allen, running a hand through his hair.

"Right. Back to business. I do apologize for my behavior, everyone. Allen?"

He shrugged.

"_Allen?" _

"Okay, fine. I'm sorry." Seeing Oliver was satisfied with his sarcastic remark, Allen turned and leaned against the wall, cursing quietly under his breath as he surveyed the bloody mess of his leather jacket.

Oliver wasted no time going to meet England, again. The tied up nation watched in horror as all attention returned to him.

"Now, Arthur. What would you say we do next, hm?" Oliver asked in a playful, yet menacing, tone.

England swallowed and answered as coolly as he could. "You... you could tell me just what you have me here for, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

Oliver only looked confused. "Still on that, are we old chap? I would have thought you had that figured out already."

"I'm afraid so. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

"Don't think you'll like what ya hear, man." Allen scoffed.

After a quick death glare in Allen's direction - it seemed he was the only one Oliver lost his temper with, to which England had to address the similarity - Oliver sighed as if in contemplation. England couldn't decide whether he was trying to figure out the best way to explain the situation, or the best way to worsen the situation where he was concerned.

But, either way, he was not looking forward to the response.

**I am so sorry it took me so long to update. I guess I've just been spending a bit more time on my deviantart account. But don't worry, I'll update this til it's done. It just may not be updated as often as it ought to be.**

**ANYWAY, I noodled out the specifics of this story, so it should be smooth sailing as far as plot goes from now on. So there's something to look forward to.**

**Thanks for the reviews and follows and stuff, guys! Seriously, it is all the motivation I need. (of course more always helps, God knows I need motivation like a fish needs water)**


	10. Chapter 10

England's mind was spinning. What was being told to him, none of it could possibly be true, could it?

And yet, he figured that there was absolutely no way for him to doubt what was being said to him.

Oliver had only grinned shyly and told him everything.

"We really are just ghost stories, Arthur, brought to life. Thanks to you, I suppose."

England groaned. Of course. Of course it would be his fault. "How exactly is that?"

"Well, it isn't any secret that you are rather gifted in magic. Something, I regret to admit, I am not." Oliver cleared his throat. "In short, your believing in us since you were little is what created us in the first place. Plant a seed of fear in a child's mind, and it grows until it consumes them. Fascinating, isn't it?"

So if he hadn't obsessed over his fear of them, they never would have existed? Just bloody brilliant.

He ground his teeth. "I'll have to thank Francis for telling me the lovely story, then."

This statement produced a laugh for the pink-colored man which caused everyone in the room to jolt, even the frenchmen in the corner. It was no doubt a frightening sound, high pitched and menacing.

"That reminds me, Arthur!" Oliver took a deep breath as he wiped a tear from his eyes. "We are going to need a little help finding the rest of your family."

"What..." England's heart started to pound faster. "What do you need them for?"

"Well, Arthur, right now you're about the only person who actually believes we exist. As a result, we only exist for _you._"

The canadian seemed agitated. "Get on with it, eh, Oliver?"

Oliver snapped, again. "_Would you like to tell him, Matthieu?"_

England noticed Allen clench his fists as Matthieu rolled his eyes and rested back against the wall.

"Now," Oliver relaxed. "Before we get rudely interrupted again, I'll continue."

England waited as a creepy grin once again spread over his captors face.

"We truly are fortunate that you aren't a regular human being, Arthur."

His stomach lurched. He had to be referring to his nation status. With him, they could put his country in serious danger.

Doing his best to keep his bodily tremors under control, England responded. "Whatever do you mean?"

Oliver laid a hand gently on his his dirty blond hair. "Oh, _England. _You should know that we know everything about the people we represent."

Then he grabbed the hair in his fist, pulling him up closer to him. England yelped, tears seeping from his eyes. He felt the cold of the blade on his throat.

"_Now tell us how we can find them, and maybe this won't be so painful, hm?_"

**What am I even doing. It was painful to write Iggy in such a scenario. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. :(**

**But anyway, I also enjoy writing Oliver. I LOVE HIS EVIL SO MUCH. :)**

**So I'm conflicted. Ah well, now I get to bring in the other characters here within the next few days. Not sure whether I'm looking forward to that or not.**

**As always, thanks for reading. And don't forget to leave a review!**


	11. Chapter 11

"Hey! Just what do you think you're doing with that?" England strained ever harder, his voice squeaking from stress and nerves. He felt Oliver's grip on his hair tighten.

"If you would just tell me what I want to hear, we won't have to do this the hard way, Arthur."

England eyed the hand that held the knife, trying to pull his neck away to a relatively safe distance. "_Do what?_" He was panicking.

Oliver huffed. "I'm getting a little bored with your stalling, Arthur. Now tell me how we can get to your family."

"Why the- WHY THE BLOODY HELL WOULD I DO THAT?" England squealed when he felt the sting on his throat.

Oliver let go just before he hit the vein in the country's neck. He reached around and cut the rope that bound him. Immediately England held his hands on his throat as blood drizzled down his chest. It may have been painful, but at least he knew it wouldn't kill him.

Turning his back, stroking his blade, Oliver spoke softly. "Arthur. Perhaps I need to explain further."

This is where things took another interesting turn. Allen took a step from the wall, clenching his jaw, only to have Matthieu put a hand on his shoulder and pull him back. For once, Francois took interest and eyed Allen, shaking his head with grim promise. Oliver cast a glace at the group, then continued.

"Arthur, I will make you hurt. Badly. Or you could tell me how to get Francis, Matthew, and Alfred to come here."

England opened his mouth to respond, then stopped. The cut on his neck was still bleeding terribly. It wasn't normal for it to take more than a minute to heal up. "Why do you want them here?" He asked with genuine confusion.

Oliver shrugged. "I suppose I owe you that. Alright." He turned back around. "We want to replace you. All of you."

The cold hit the pit of England's stomach as he realized what that meant. What his still bleeding throat meant.

He pulled his hand away slowly. It was stained red. His wound was still bleeding as profusely as it had when it had first been cut.

The room started to spin around him. Then he hit the floor.

**Two updates in one day to make up for my procrastinating... Nothing much else to say except poor Iggy.**

**thank you for continuing to read! and please please please review (basically i need to know if it sucks and should just stop writing)**


	12. Chapter 12

"I told you you can't do that."

"Aw, now you're just making rules up, man."

"_No. _Now how about you play by the rules, eh?"

"Oh fer- This ain't even a full deck! Oliver got into this one, too."

Allen tossed the cards to the wall, where they fluttered one by one to the ground, save a few that landed on the seemingly unconscious England. He winced at the noise.

"He's awake again." Matthieu stood up.

"So he is. How about that." Allen huffed, crossing his arms and throwing himself back in his chair, legs sprawled. "What're we gonna do, huh?"

"A smart person would tell Oliver."

Allen laughed sourly. "Well, you know that ain't me." He smirked. "Why's he still pretending to sleep?"

England opened his eyes. They were both watching him.

"I guess that cat's out of the bag, isn't it?" He slowly sat up, with a shaky laugh. He put a hand on his throat, and found it sewn up. He wasn't sure what was going on, but whatever it was, he sure wasn't immortal anymore. England swallowed.

"Ol' Oli did that."

"Excuse me?"

"Oliver. He sewed up your 'cut' there." Allen nodded when England brushed his hand over it again. "You sure seemed shocked about all the blood. You didn't lose enough to pass out."

"Well, I'm not used to dying." England answered coolly.

Allen sat up. He addressed the brawny Canadian. "So Mattie, what do you think we oughta do now?"

"You already know what yer gonna do, eh?"

Solemnly, Allen nodded. "Well I sure as hell ain't gonna get Oliver."

Matthieu seemed satisfied. He walked to the door and put his back to it. "Go'on."

England watched nervously as Allen stood up and approached him.

"So, what'd'ya say, Arthur?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Well how 'bout I fill you in?"

**So like this is a weird chapter but I thought it was a good stopping point. I'll post another one that goes deeper into Allen and Matthieu's characters.**

**Thanks for the continued support everyone! And don't forget to leave a review! **

**And a Happy Memorial day to my USofA readers.**


	13. Chapter 13

"Go on then." England said quietly.

Allen had seemed to realize he had made a mistake. He had been about to explain the situation, when he had recoiled and rubbed a spot on his chest nervously.

"Uh..."

"Something wrong, there?" Matthieu leaned forward, but didn't release any pressure from the door.

"Aw, what the hell. I said I was tired of this shit. Might as well do what I can."

England scooted back as Allen flopped down on the couch next to him. He wasn't really sure what to think of America's counterpart. Allen was definitely on the violent side, but he also held the ornery nature of Alfred. England just wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. He looked him over. Allen looked almost exactly like America, just darker. And that baseball bat? Alfred would lose his mind if someone drove nails into his signed American League bat. Then England remembered. Somewhat absentmindedly, he rose his hand to the place above his ear. Allen noticed.

"There ain't anything there anymore."

England felt all over the side of his head, but, sure enough, there wasn't anything.

"But... There was a huge gash there. Where did it go?"

Allen shrugged. "It healed. As far as we know, only Oliver can cause any real damage to you."

England turned a tad pale. "So he... he can kill me, then?"

They both nodded.

"And only you can kill him."

England swallowed. "Why are you telling me that?"

"Jesus, Arthur. Does there hafta be a reason?" Allen laughed. "Maybe I just like causing trouble for the old man."

This confused England. Killing someone was _not _causing them trouble. Maybe Allen was also on the insane side.

"Yes, actually. There does need to be a reason. And would you kindly tell me what he was going on about replacing me?" England asked, in a slightly demanding way.

Allen was taken aback. "Acting a little rude for someone in your position."

"You can't do anything to me. So where's the harm?"

After a few moments, a smile started to creep across Allen's face.

"I guess you're right. Alright, I'll tell ya. But first-" He looked to the door. "You sure they ain't comin' Mattie?"

Matthieu shook his head. "They went upstairs. They won't come out unless we interrupt them. And I don't plan on doing that again."

Allen turned back to Arthur.

"In that case, I'll tell you all about ol' Oli's grand plan."

"Plan to what?" England was getting a little impatient.

"The plan to invade your world..." Allen pulled his shades down over his eyes and waved his hands around the sides of his face. "...and replace it with a world ruled by... 2p's."

Yeah. Allen was _very _much like America.

**Oh, yes. I went there with Francois and Oliver. (Sorry if your mind isn't dirty like mine. I guess if you didn't get it you do now. I just feel bad Matthieu ever had to witness it.) For the record, I ship 2p! FrUK, but not 1p! FrUK. Idk. I just never got Arthur and Francis as a couple, but Oliver and Francois just work for me. Also, I ship 1p! Canada and 2p! America. (But don't worry, that isn't what this fanfic is about. Unless you guys like that...?)**

**TOMORROW (or later tonight idk) you will know Oliver's grand plan! (Like what I did with Allen there? I totally think he's very similar in regards to America's enthusiasm about stuff. He's just a ton more foul mouthed and violent. Like, really violent. When he wants to be.)**

**One more thing. Usually people get this idea that "2p!'s will exist as long as their counterparts are alive" or whatever. But, since 2p! personalities and everything is pretty much 100% fanbased, save for their appearances, I think I'll experiment with my own headcannons. Feel free to tell me what you think. (And if you feel the need to have a deep, meaningful conversation on the existence of the 2p!verse or hell anything really, shoot me a PM. I'm always up for that kinda shit.)**

**Thanks to everyone who has read so far and reviewed! It really keeps me going.**


	14. Chapter 14

"2p's? What the hell are those?"

"It's Al's word for us. Stupid if you ask me..." Matthieu smirked.

"Hey, why don't you shut up? I'm tryna explain something here." Allen shot a glare at him, then smiled back at England, who had somehow expected the two to be so easily distracted. "Anyway, us 2p's are just like Oliver said, a ghost story that you brought to life cause you're magic and all. What he wants is for us to kill the nations we represent, and then we'll become the new countries, basically making the whole world into one big 2p place."

"Why does he want that?" England asked nervously.

Allen just shrugged. "You would honestly know more about that than us. He may be batshit crazy, but he's still made up from stuff that exists inside of you." He lifted his glasses off of his face. "And I'm made up of stuff inside America. Who, honestly, I'd like to ask a thing or two. He's got some real fucked up stuff he needs to deal with."

"Based off of me?" England said in disbelief. He had a hard time thinking he could ever do the things Oliver did. And yet... he probably had at one time or another. He just didn't like remembering that much. Particularly Oliver's need to control and take over. He felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered the hatred and blood that had come from it.

"You alright there, Arthur?" Allen asked, seemingly very concerned.

England looked up. The counter-country reminded him of America more than he cared to admit. But if he was supposed to portray everything bad about America, then why did he not seem so bad?

Then it hit him. They weren't just based off of their own respective countries. They were still figments of Arthur's imagination brought to life. So the 'bad' that they portrayed was made up of things that England himself viewed as bad. America's enthusiasm and eagerness to get involved in the lives of others had been something England had always looked down on with annoyance. What were the chances that it would be the exact thing that was keeping him safe now?

England cleared his throat. "I think I have a much better understanding of the situation."

Allen looked shocked. "Really? I didn't think I told you all that much yet."

"Yes. But there's still one thing I don't understand."

"What is that?"

"What in the world is a 2p?"

Allen looked about ready to explode. "Seriously? Doesn't anyone play video games anymore?"

**Okay so please don't hate me. I'm really messing with the way everyone else in this fandom has come to view the 2p! characters. But in order for my story to really work, I kind of have to. **

**Anyway. I might just be falling a little bit in love with Allen. I mean, come on, who hasn't? lol**

**And, as always, thanks for reading! I appreciate every single follow and fav and review I get ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

Matthieu held up his hands. "You two hosers want to quiet down? We don't want Oliver coming back down here, remember?"

"Oh, right." Allen rubbed his neck. "Anyway. So what did you figure out, exactly?"

England stood up, and responded sheepishly. "Look, I'm glad that you seem to want to help, but... you're still... I mean, I'm not trying to be rude but-"

"You still don't trust us." Allen said simply.

"Er... yes. I'm sorry."

Allen shrugged. "Ah, that's alright. Hell, I wouldn't trust me. I'm not really my own person anyway, so who knows what I could turn in to."

"But..." Matthieu spoke up again. "Trusting us might be your only hope of making it out of here alive."

There was truth in the Canadian's statement, and England knew it. He took a moment to ponder Matthieu over. He needed to confirm his theory, so he considered how he might have created him. For starters, he was _much _larger than the Canada he knew. In the past, England had worried that the large country would eventually grow too strong and powerful for British rule. Of course, he did, but never in the menacing way Matthieu appeared. Other than that, though, he couldn't quite figure it out.

"Perhaps..." England started. "We should come up with some kind of plan for getting me out of here?"

"Well, old man, you might need to trust us a little more if you want us to do that. Also, Oliver ain't gonna leave you alone that easy."

"That is true. I suppose that means..." He swallowed.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so." Allen smiled sympathetically. "And aside from getting him here for ya, there really isn't anything we can do. It's up to you, man."

England paused for a moment, then he spoke with certainty. "I'm going to need my book of spells."

Allen and Matthieu looked at each other, honestly surprised. Then Allen got excited again.

"Alright, I've always wanted to see some pirate magic. Where is this book?"

"In my study. In my world. It wouldn't be hard for me to get it."

Allen's face fell. "Oh. Uh... See that isn't gonna be possible."

"Why is that?"

"Well, in order to get to your world again, we'd need to get into Oliver's study. His closet door leads to yours."

England bit his lip. He had an eerie feeling he knew where this would lead, but he asked anyway. "Why is that a problem? I thought they were upstairs?"

Allen's face reddened. "Yeah... Well they always end up on the big desk, if you know what I mean."

Now England blushed. "Oh. I see."

He had never been proud of his weird fetishes either. So of course Oliver would enjoy them.

Just bloody brilliant.

**Aaah... I said it wouldn't be that kind of fanfic. But I guess it became one. But don't worry, aside from random mentions and dumb jokes like this one, they don't have anything to do with the plot. As far as Arthur is concerned, I do imagine him having weird fetishes, and being extremely embarrassed about them. Damn these 2p!s being personifications of your insecurities about yourself! They make life so difficult.**

**Lol**

**So guys being the scrambled brained writer I am, I wrote the last chapter a little bit ago. It may change, but it kinda summarizes the whole plot. AND TBH I AM UBER EXCITED ABOUT THE STORY I CAME UP WITH. ITS GOT HORROR, HUMOR, AND HEARTBREAK. (oops spoiler sry) **

**And thanks again for all the support guys! It means a lot to me you have no idea. And we reached 2000+ views today. (yes we i would have stopped this story long ago without you guys)! Love all you guys.**

**Oh, and going camping tomorrow so I'm not sure when I will be able to update again, but I will keep writing and post a few prewritten ones throughout the day on saturday and sunday, probably on an hourly basis. I'll tell you when so for those followers who want to, they can be continuously updated, and have a day of 2p! shenanigans. Or you can binge read sunday night. I'm not the boss of you. X)**


	16. Chapter 16

"Are you certain the only way into my world is through his study?"

"As far as we know, yeah. Got any ideas on get them out, Mattie?"

The Canadian sighed. "Only one. But I sure don't like it."

"Well? What have you got?" England was eager.

"We can hide you here, then I tell 'em you made a run for it, and Allen can find the book." Matthieu said, unenthused. "It's a little dangerous though. Oliver won't be happy to find out we let you give us the slip."

"How is that dangerous?"

Allen's face contorted a little bit. "Well, y'see, it's not in Oliver's best interest for us to actually get severely hurt. _ But_ if we were to do something to really piss him off, he knows how to cause lasting damage. It just isn't easy."

"I thought only your counterparts could hurt you like that?" England started to worry. He had thought only he was in grave danger from Oliver.

"Not if it's self inflicted." Allen pulled his jacket off his left arm and moved his t-shirt out of the way. There was a scar the size of his hand right under his collarbone. England's eyes widened in horror. "Few years ago I managed to get the old man pretty mad. Don't remember what I did exactly, but he really freaked out. When he attacked me, he put the knife in my hand and forced me to stab myself. Apparently, that kind of damage stays a lot longer than the other kind. I actually thought it would kill me." He put his jacket back on.

"That's terrible."

Allen shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. But that isn't what matters right now. We have a spell book to get."

England spoke carefully. "I'm not sure if you putting yourself in that position is a good idea." Again, Allen's resemblence to America was pulling at England's heartstrings.

"Hey, you wanna get rid of this guy, or not?"

"Of course I do, but-"

Allen put a hand on England's shoulder. "Dude, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't even exist. I think risking by ass is the least I can do."

England sighed. "Alright then. Let's get this over with."

**Woot woot. Another chapter. I think I needed a little backstory of some kind to really solidify everything. Poor Allen. Oliver's always beating on you, huh? Well, we gonna fix that don't you worry baby. Lol sorry. I couldn't resist.**

**Ah yes. Allen shall be venturing into the 1p! world now. Whatever could this lead to?**

**Thanks again you guys for the reveiews! I ever so appreciate them. They help a LOT.**


	17. Chapter 17

"Oliver! Open up, eh? Hurry!"

Francois and Oliver tumbled to the floor as they heard the frantic yelling from the hallway.

Rubbing his head, Oliver shouted back, "I'm a little busy at the moment! What is it?"

"Arthur's gone! He made a run for it. Allen's after him, but you know how he can be. Might want to hurry."

Matthieu heard stumbling around, and then a quick, "please excuse me, Francois, we'll finish another time" before Oliver burst from the room, knife in his teeth, trying to get his sweater vest on. Turning to look back in the room, Matthieu saw Francois, sprawled on the floor under a purple sheet, a cigarette burning in his mouth.

"You seem a little miffed, Fran."

The Frenchmen let out an exaggerated sigh, then lifted his hand into the air, which held a coiled piece of leather.

"I am. We never got to my favorite part."

**Boop de boop. Another one of 'those' chapters. Sorry. But hey, it's short. **

**Oh you guys, what's Oliver gonna do when he finds out they pulled a fast one on him? **

**Thanks for all the views! I'm surprised how much this has gotten, really.**

**Next update will be sometime in the next few hours.**


	18. Chapter 18

"Oh for fuck's sake - when's he gonna leave?"

Allen was standing outside of Oliver's study, waiting for Francois to get up and leave. He wasn't entirely sure where Matthieu had led Oliver, or when the he was going to figure out their ruse, but he did know he had to get into that study. He peered around the corner. Francois was lying, most likely naked, under a sheet, blowing smoke circles at the ceiling.

Allen took a step forward, and he winced when the floor creaked. He paled when Francois spoke up.

"Do whatever it is you 'ave to. I'm not going to stop you, you know."

Pausing for a second more, Allen took a deep breath, then walked into the room. "What'd'you mean you won't stop me? You seemed pretty on board with Oliver earlier."

"Don't assume anything, Allen. Nothing means anything, anyway, now does it?"

"Excuse me?" Allen stopped walking. He stared down at the Frenchmen with confusion.

"What's the point, of anything?" He stated another rhetorical question, then sighed when he realized Allen hadn't moved. "Christ, Allen, I don't love the bitch." He put the cigarette in his mouth and blew a puff in Allen's direction. Then he shrugged. "Just the sex."

Allen wasn't sure whether to be amused or disgusted. Instead, he swung his bat over his shoulder, and took one final look at Francois before heading to the closet.

"Tell my 1p _bonjour_ for me, if you see 'im."

Smirking, Allen opened the door to the other study, and went inside.

**Aw yes, more character development for Francois. Now, who can tell me the specifics of France's character that Arthur dislikes? I think in my creating of my version of the 2p!'s, I also had to do a lot of development where Arthur is concerned, what with how he views other people. Hm. Guess we will all see how that turns out.**

**Also: I am so happy with the enthusiasm my headcanons for the 2p!'s have been met with. I thought people would want to shoot me dead for messing with the fandom, but I guess I just hit the right buttons. Thanks for EVERYTHING, guys. Love you all!**


	19. Chapter 19

England was starting to get antsy. It had been at least 15 minutes. Shouldn't he have heard from at least one of them by now? As he paced the library - he had discerned that to be the room he was in - he tried to remember at least one spell that might be useful, should Oliver return before Allen did.

"Oh, hell. I can't believe I've forgotten all of them!" He kicked the couch, then fell backwards onto it, rubbing his head. He oughtn't lose his temper. The last thing he needed was to pull attention to himself, and getting angry and making noise would do just that. He tried to think about his theory more, but all he could think was just how hard he was going to sock France in the jaw when he saw him again. And, Spain and Prussia, too, if he got the chance.

A few more minutes passed, and the clock on the wall chimed. He hadn't thought much on it, but now he was wondering just how long he had been there. The clock read 5:30.

"I suppose a little brandy wouldn't hurt. It'd be good for the nerves, at least." Standing up, England looked around, until he caught sight of a large black book laying on its side on a nearby shelf. "It's a good thing my liquor habit was one thing I wasn't too fond of." He grinned as he pulled the book out and opened it.

Sure enough, it was a false book, with a cut out for a bottle and glass, just like he had always hidden in his library at home. But when he pulled it out, he practically wanted to cry when he read the label.

"Embalming fluid? What kind of man keeps embalming fluid in a liquor chest?"

"The kind who feels so close to death. It's good to see you awake again, Arthur."

The bottle went crashing to the ground.

**I just adore cliff hangers, don't you? So entertaining. And for my purposes, perfect. They really help with switching between 'scenes' now that Allen's in one world and the rest are in the other.**

**Well well well... Oliver has found you out. What shall become of this?**

**It occurred to me this morning that this was essentially a fucked up crack fic that escalated quickly when I realized it was more popular than my serious fics I was doing. But hey, it's fun. X)**

**Many thanks to all my followers and readers and reviewers :) you are the best**


	20. Chapter 20

Allen had practically turned the study upside down trying to find the pirate book of spells. For all their planning, he had somehow forgotten to ask where England had it hidden. Frantic thoughts ran through his mind as he tore through drawer after drawer.

What if Oliver got back to England before he did? What if someone from this world saw him? What if Oliver found _him_?

"Oh shit-" He threw the last possible drawer onto the floor, swearing under his breath. "Where could it possibly be?"

"Arthur? Is that you?" He heard a muffled voice from outside. Allen froze. When he didn't answer, the voice continued. "Your tea is ready. Papa had me bring it to you since you apparently haven't wanted to talk with him."

Allen looked around the room in a frenzy. He couldn't leave without the book, but he also couldn't let whoever this was see him, except - what if he knew where the book was?

"Arthur?" The voice sounded a little worried. He heard the sound of glass on glass, then he saw the door handle turn.

Allen lunged for the door, but it was too late, it was open, and the likeness of his own brother stood before him.

**WHOOSH. And just like that, another character has been introduced to you. Who could it possibly be? And judging by my track record, how is Allen going to react?**

**Lol this story... It has gone places I never thought it would in the beginning. I am very happy with it so far.**

**Thanks to you all for the continued support!**


	21. Chapter 21

England watched in horror as Oliver waltzed into the room, pulling a rope that was attached around a bloody Matthieu's neck.

"It seems my family has come to develop feelings for you, Arthur." He dropped the rope and Matthieu fell against the door frame. Oliver watched with amusement. "It hurts my feelings that they would rather help you than me. But, I have ways to deal with naughty children."

As his terror mounted, England looked to Matthieu, who only grinned painfully and shook his head. Assuming that meant his wounds would heal, England turned his attention back to Oliver, whose face was positively horrifying. More so than he had already seen it.

"I think it's time that you and I get down to business, hm? You are going to tell me exactly what I want to hear." Oliver pulled his knife out, as well as a new rope. "Do I make myself perfectly clear, Arthur?"

"I'm afraid not, Oliver." England was backed against the book case, slowly moving towards the fireplace a few feet behind him. "Unlike you, I actually care about what happens to my family, as you call them, although I'm not entirely sure that is an appropriate use of the word." He watched over his alter-nation's shoulder, and saw Matthieu was regaining his composure, wiping the blood from his face and standing up straighter. England looked Oliver in the face again.

"What, you think I don't care about them? I want to give them your entire world-"

"No, you want the world. You're just using them." England reached behind him, his fingers wrapping around the stoker. He glanced up and saw Matthieu start to stumble in their direction.

Oliver shrugged, then said with an embarrassed grin. "Maybe I am. But what does it matter? I'm evil. It's what I do, remember?" With a sudden movement he slashed the knife over England's arm, but narrowly missed, as the other man had swung the iron rod threw the air, and landed a shallow blow on Oliver's tan pants. Red seeped into them.

But instead of cries of pain, Oliver started to laugh, the same menacing laugh as before.

Matthieu just paused in shock.

"So _that's_ what that feels like." Oliver took another moment to look at his leg, then tore the stoker from it.

England, who still had his hands on it, hung on, and yanked it from Oliver's grip.

Oliver put his bloody fingers on the wall beside him, and traced a smile onto the bindings of the books. "Looks like things are going to get interesting."

**I like to think Oliver is one to enjoy the pain. I had left who would be on the receiving end of the whip up to the imagination, but perhaps it's time to dispel alternate theories... **

**Sorry I updated so late. BUT I DID IT. Lol Thanks for all the views guys! **


	22. Chapter 22

"...Alfred?"

The counter-country shook his head, moving to hold his bat behind him, so as not to frighten the newcomer further.

"Who- who are you?" Canada asked waringly, then giggled nervously.

Allen wasn't sure what he could expect from this nation. All he could tell was for some reason he thought had the most beautiful dirty blonde hair, with a strand that fell just so over his nose. He cleared his throat and responded, shaking away the feeling.

"What's so funny?"

Canada bit his lip, then answered. "It's just, usually I'm not the one asking that question. Usually I'm answering it. But still, who are you and..." He looked around the room, a look of slight terror filling the eyes that Allen could only describe as brilliantly purple. "And where is Arthur?" He started to tremble.

Allen dropped his bat to the floor in a haste, holding his hands out when he saw the other man was about to flip out. "Shit, don't freak out. I'm not here to cause any trouble I just- I just need to find something, that's all."

"Where is Arthur?" This time he asked insistently.

"Uh... It's a long story, Matthew, and I really don't have time." Allen was finding it difficult to concentrate. He was too busy trying to suppress the odd things he was feeling as he looked at the hoodie-clad Canadian.

He squinted his eyes. "How do you know who I am?"

"Oh, well, shit, I- I just- god dammit-" Allen stuttered. He was running short on time. If he didn't hurry, Oliver was going to find England. And then he really didn't want to think about what would happen next. "Listen, I'm actually trying to help Arthur, okay? He's in a lot of trouble right now so I need to find this book of his-"

"I said that I wanted to know who you were."

Allen stopped talking. Then he sighed. "Fine. But it's gotta be quick."

**Mmmmph. Allen what is up with yo head? More like what's up with my head. I don't know. It's just so common in the Hetalia fandom, ships are such sudden things (or maybe that's yaoi is general). Like, "oh you hate each other? SHIP." Or, "you're practically brothers? SHIP." Or even, "woah you're in the same room as each other? SHIP." I can't really complain all that much, since I am soooo guilty as well, but sometimes I'll admit it gets repetitive. Still, it fits into the genre I am writing into, and so it would be a shame not to add it in at some point in time. Also some of you seem to like the Allen I have created. So I decided his character deserved a little side-story. That is all.**

**(Oh wait I almost forgot jk) THANKS AGAIN YOU GUYS! YOU ROCK!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Note: starting with this chapter, I'm just going to use human names instead of country names.**

Arthur was standing on top of the couch, holding the card table in between him and the blade that had come dangerously close to coming through it. On the other side of the room, Oliver was struggling in Matthieu's arms.

"LET GO OF ME THIS INSTANT, MATTHIEU! Or do you want me to punish you again?" He was screeching.

"Get out of here, now. Or do'y want him chasing after you?" Matthieu shook his head towards the door, trying to get the spazzing Oliver under control.

Nodding, Arthur dropped the table, and ran for the door, only to find his path now blocked by a fully-clothed Francois, who held a tightly wound whip in his hands.

"Sounded like things were getting a little out of 'and up 'ere. Thought I might see what was going on." He stepped forward, and England took a step back. "That, and I was out of cigarettes."

"Francois! Where is Allen?" Oliver stopped struggling for a second and spoke to the Frenchman, relieved.

"Where do you think? 'e went to fetch this little man's reinforcements."

Oliver was slightly ticked off by that. "And you didn't stop him?"

"Of course not. Why would I do that?" He turned away for a moment, then suddenly twisted his wrists and sent the leather strap sailing in Arthur's direction, wrapping it around his arm in stinging precision.

"Hey!" Arthur grabbed at the whip but it had already started cutting into his wrists and now into his fingers as well.

"Fran! What are you doing, eh?" Matthieu was now struggling to hold onto Oliver, who had resorted to biting into the man's arm.

"Sticking with the side that's going to win, Matthieu. I suggest you do the same." He yanked on the whip and Arthur's arm was twisted behind him, and he found himself lying on the ground, his arms tied together.

"Bloody git-" He spat purple carpet fuzz from his mouth, then winced when Francois lifted him by the wrists into a chair, and used the remainder of the whip to immobilize him.

"Now, I am going to find my booze. You will find me in the bedroom when you are done." Without another word, Francois whisked himself from the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Francois! Get back in here! I need help with- Oh sprinkles."

"Matthieu, don't let him go. I can untie myself." Arthur worked at the binds.

"I wasn't going to." He responded sarcastically. Matthieu watched as Arthur struggled in the chair. Then a strange feeling washed over him. His head started to hurt, then he felt his mind shut down almost completely.

Arthur noticed. "Matthieu? Is everything alright?"

"I don't feel... something isn't..." Then he felt his body go rigid, and he looked at the man he was holding, entirely confused.

The man was equally confused. "Matthieu? What's going on?"

He said nothing.

**If I have made this confusing by alternating scenes, then let me know and I will start making a note at the beginning of the chapter.**

**"Oh, sprinkles." I don't think Oliver is a fan of profanity, mostly because Arthur has never let on that he dislikes it. Plus, he's got a sugary-sweet personality covering up the creepy as hell person inside of him. So, 'sprinkle' is as bad as it gets for him. Originally I had him saying 'fluffernutter' but that just didn't feel right.**

**And what about Matthieu huh? Anyone got any possible theories for what's going on there? Love to hear them. I need to see if anyone's as crazy as me XP**

**Many thanks for all the views and reviews. :) Ya'll are the best bunch of readers ever.**


	24. Chapter 24

"So you're... you're some story that Papa told to Arthur, and because he was magic he made you real? But, by accident." Matthew was trying extremely hard to wrap his head around it.

"Exactly. And, while I and my brother - that would be you're counterpart - are basically okay, Oliver is a little shit crazy, and only Arthur can get rid of him. That's why I need to find his pirate book of spells."

Matthew looked at Allen, not entirely sure of he wanted to believe it. But for some reason or another, he did. It terrified him quite a bit to think what his counterpart would be like, but he ignored the feeling and decided to help Allen. "Is that why you tore this place up? To find that book?"

"Yeah. Do you know where he keeps it?"

"Of course. Arthur always had to keep it hidden from Alfred, but I know where it is." He walked to a painting on the wall, and lifted the corner of the frame. Behind it, there was a small shelf in the wall, and the dustly old book sat right in the center. Matthew handed it to him. "Here."

"Thanks. He'll be glad to see it." Allen turned for the closet, but stopped. He looked at Matthew. "I have to go back now. I don't think it's a good idea for you to tell anyone about this yet. Or, y'know, ever."

Matthew bit his lip again. "That's the thing... I kind of want to go with you. To see it for myself."

Allen flushed. He was torn between wanting to keep him as far away from the danger as he possibly could, and wanting to spend more time with this nation that intrigued him so much for whatever reason. "I don't think that's a good idea, Matthew."

Matthew frowned. "I'm going to help save Arthur. He's family to me."

"Oh... okay." Allen swallowed. "In that case... let's hurry."

He led Matthew through the closet, and was suprised that Francois was no longer on the floor. Matthew looked around in disbelief.

"Everything is pink and purple. And... are those knives?"

"Yeah," Allen laughed nervously. "He likes his steel. But we need to go." When Matthew couldn't be torn away from the room's decor, Allen started to sweat. They were in a hurry. Without thinking, he grabbed Matthew's hand and pulled him to the door.

To his surprise, Matthew held right back onto it. All the way as they ran down the hall towards the library.

"Um... Allen?" Matthew said quietly as he rushed along behind him.

"Yeah?"

"Only Arthur and Papa call me Matthew. Call me Mattie."

Allen felt his heart start to race even faster. And he knew it was for an entirely different reason than what it ought to be.

**D'aaw. I ship these two entirely too much. But, again, I think it's important that this story arc be here. I want there to be more than one plot line. It'll make sense eventually. **

**So Mattie... what are you so worried about that 2p! for?**

**I'll leave you with that.**

**Thanks to those of you who've conitnued to read and to those who have just started ;) Ya'll are awesome!**


	25. Chapter 25

Matthieu slowly let Oliver slip from his hands. The Englishman dusted himself off and looked up at him.

"Have you had a change of heart on whose side you would like to be on?" Oliver asked unsurely, and yet with a grin starting to appear on his lips.

There was absolutely no response, verbal or physical, from Matthieu. Just a stare.

"Matthieu... What are you doing?" Arthur spoked quietly.

No response.

"Well then." Oliver turned around, and Arthur realized that he was still tied to a chair and essentially alone with an unrestrained madman. Who had just pulled his knife from the table he'd thrown it into earlier. And was not now stolling in his direction. "It seems this little chat will go uninterrupted, then."

Arthur trembled, his heart racing.

"M- Matthieu! Allen! God damnit- Alfred! Francis! Oh, fuck- Matthew!" He started to shout out every possible person he could think to help him as he struggled against his bindings. "Flying mint bunny?! Anyone!" Oliver was standing right in front of him. He reached out and put his still bloodied hand over his mouth, quieting him.

Arthur could smell the blood and sugar on Oliver as he came within inches of his face.

He closed his eyes and trembled as he listened as Oliver started to hum to himself.

**Okay so for the record, I don't like to think of Arthur EVER being reduced to a sniveling baby. I think he's a gentlemen, but also pretty tough if he needs to be. BUT as was done in the first couple chapters, these 2p!s freak him out and are like the one thing that can tear him down like that. I mean, Oliver is supposed (in my view) to be the personification of all the terrible things Arthur is afraid of himself being. As far as that headcanon goes, Oliver is a person Arthur knows he could be, but would never, ever want to be. Someone he was on the brink of being at many different points in time, but narrowly escaped becoming. Ugh angst.**

**Lol Sorry that was a little deep. But sometimes I get like that.**

**Anyone else think Oliver's a little done with everyone around him? I do.**

**OH and the song I imagine him humming is called 'I can't decide' by the Scissor Sisters. You should totally look it up. I didn't pair him with the song, but there's an amv on youtube for Oliver and the song if you're interested.**

**AND GUESS WHAT. THIS HAS 3000 VIEWS AS OF TODAY. **

**I don't think I will ever be able to express how much that means to me, you guys seriously are the best thank you ;)**


	26. Chapter 26

Allen and Matthew stood outside the library door, and they could hear defeaning cries of pain from the other side.

"Is that Arthur?" Matthew asked, panicked.

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure that's Oliver making him do it." Allen tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

"We have to do something! He's killing him in there!" Matthew thrust his shoulder against the door, but it did absolutely nothing.

"He won't kill him, not unless he gets what he wants. And I don't think Arthur's going to give in that eas-" He looked at Matthew. What had he been thinking, allowing him to follow? With Matthew now there and everything, Oliver didn't need Arthur. And Allen wasn't sure Matthew had the guts to stand up under torture like that. Well, that and he couldn't imagine having to listen to Oliver torturing _him_. Allen started to get jumpy. He looked up and down the halls, frantically. "Where the hell is Matthieu? He can bust down doors no problem."

"Maybe we can find Francois? You said he let you leave-"

"It wouldn't do any good. He only let me go cause he's too lazy to try and stop me. And who knows where his loyalty really lies, anyway." He scanned the hallway again. "Where the hell is he?"

"We need to get someone- anyone- listen to him!" Matthew was on the brink of tears as the cries echoed all around him.

"I- I know. I've heard him do it to people before."

Matthew was wide-eyed. "Before?"

"Yeah. And me."

"Oh." Matthew put a hand over his mouth. The only difference was, according to Allen, they could heal. But if Oliver was doing anything to Arthur, it would be permanent.

Sighing, Matthew put his hand onto Allen's shoulder. "Let's go find your brother okay? You said he wasn't going to _kill_ Arthur so... we have time, at least."

Allen looked him in the eyes. "Yeah, okay. Follow me."

**Well well well. I think they are going to be in for a surprise, don't you?**

**And good lord. Trying to remember the difference between 'Matthew' and 'Matthieu' and when to use each spelling is ridiculous. I can't imagine what it's like for them, they don't even get a spelling.**

**Okay so today I officially have seen every episode of Hetalia available, subbed and dubbed, including extra episodes. IT FEELS SO WRONG. It's funny how something can only be in your life for a few months, and you can't imagine not being obsessed with it. **

**Love to all my readers and followers and reviewers! Including those all over the world, who get updates at weird times of the day. It's an odd feeling, knowing that someone in Belarus or Australia is reading what I write. But also a good feeling. ;) **


	27. Chapter 27

Oliver twisted the blade in between Arthur's ribs, eliciting excruciating tears of terror and cries of pain.

"_I want you to give me your family. Tell me how to find them, and how to bring them here._" He removed the knife, awaiting a reply.

Coughing up blood, Arthur replied. "Go to hell."

With another grin, Oliver slapped Arthur across the face. And then again, and again.

He winced, then looked up at Oliver. "You aren't *cough* going to get to them."

"Well, in that case they won't get to you in time, will they, Arthur?" He held onto one of Arthur's ears and pulled on it. "I'm afraid to tell you this, but if they let you die, there will be no one left to kill me."

When Arthur said nothing, Oliver stepped back and thrust his knee into his stomach. Arthur spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor.

And still, nothing Oliver nor Arthur did caused Matthieu to react in any way.

**Yeesh. Gory stuff. I just want to go in there like "STAY AWAY FROM MY IGGY BABY!" I don't know how authors can write their characters into agonizing situations and ****_not_**** want to cry. **

**But not to fear. Stories always have happy endings. Except in history, where we are only made to believe that the way things turn out is the right way. It's a good thing Arthur isn't, like, a country or has anything to do with history or anything. Oh wait... **

**Lol Sorry I don't know why I ever think I am funny.**

**AND I'M SO SORRY I'M LATE UPDATING. I went and saw the first showing of The Fault in Our Stars, so it was really late and I... just... didn't. I apologize that it is late. But now you get two in one day? Sound good? I'll update again in a few hours. ;)**

**Hugs and kisses to those who have continued to read this ridiculous story that had no structure in the beginning and evolved into something with actual plot. You guys are the best, I mean it. :D **


	28. Chapter 28

"Yo, Francis, you have any idea what happened to Mattie?" Alfred peeked around the corner into the kitchen, where Francis was decorating what seemed to be an apology cake.

"I sent 'im up to give Arthur 'is tea, since 'e didn't come down to make it 'imself." Francis wiped his hands off on his apron, then took it off. "Why? 'ave you not seen 'im?"

"No. He's been missing for like, an hour. And I'm starting to worry about Arthur, too, man."

Francis sighed. "I 'ad no idea he was zis upset with me. 'e 'as not been out of 'is study since yesterday morning." He looked at the beautiful cake. "'ow could I zink a cake would solve zis problem? 'e 'asn't gone zis long without talking to me since I scared 'im when we were little."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, dude. I think I'm gonna go see what's going on."

**What's this? Alfred and Francis being introduced? Finally got everyone into the story. **

**And don't ask what Francis did to make Arthur so mad, because I have no idea. It will just be assumed that he had just pissed Arthur off by being himself, and then shortly after Arthur was abducted, leaving the rest of FACE to believe he had holed himself up in his study for an absurd amount of time because he was angry with Francis.**

**But, anyway, I like to imagine Francis getting upset if he really did hurt Iggy's feelings, like seriously bad. Because while they annoy each other to no end, they really do care X)**

**Many thanks to the continued support, guys! **


	29. Chapter 29

Allen and Matthew ran up the stairs of the alternate FACE family's mansion. After searching out every other room downstairs for Matthieu, they had decided he had to be somewhere upstairs. Allen was expressing his worries.

"Oh god- If he wasn't in the library, Oliver must have gotten to him already- Jesus, that shit better not have gotten himself killed."

Matthew couldn't help but find Allen's caring about his brother a little cute. He wasn't sure exactly what made Allen different than Alfred, but the difference was there. He still got himself into trouble trying to help out other people, but he was tougher. And he cursed a LOT more.

"Allen... What is this Matthieu like?"

"Huh?" Allen calmed down a little when Matthew finally spoke up and said something. He tightened his grip - yes, they were still holding hands - and realized how secure it made him feel, having someone else there. "Oh, Mattie's- er, Matt's cool. I mean, he doesn't talk all that much, but he's got a sense of humor, if he feels comfortable around you, I guess. And he's loyal, too. I suppose to a fault, since he doesn't always think things through."

"Oh." Matthew contemplated that. "You said that you are made up of the evil inside of us. Then how come you and he aren't... like that?"

Allen shrugged. He hadn't really thought about that. He just assumed the way he and Oliver were had to do with Alfred and Arthur but... From the way things had started to seem, Alfred and Arthur had a MUCH better relationship than he and Oliver did. Allen had been so deep in thought he hadn't realized he'd slowed to a walk.

"Allen?"

"Oh- Sorry." He looked at Matthew. Something about him being here and not being able to find Matthieu made him think there was one more thing they couldn't quite grasp. But he was more worried about finding Matthieu - hopefully alive - than any philosophical theories at that point. He nodded down the hall to the only open door. "Maybe he's there. That's Oliver and Francois's room."

"Wait-" Matthew let go of Allen's hand. "They... _share_ a room?"

Allen looked over his shoulder, then back at Matthew. "Yeah, why?"

"Arthur and Papa don't. In fact, they can't stand each other."

"Really?" Allen stopped moving towards the room. He was starting to get even more confused. He sighed. "Okay, so I guess we'll have figure out who we really are. Because from the sounds of it, there's a lot more to it than us just being you guys' evil sides."

"I don't think you're our evil sides at all. You're different, but in a good way. At least you are." Matthew blushed a little when he finished talking.

"Heh..." Allen smirked. He picked Matthew's hand back up, and he started to walk towards the open door. "Well, I think you're different in a good way, too, Mattie."

**Oh you two are hopeless... Or maybe that's just me. Or both.**

**So what they gone find in that bedroom, hmmm? Only time will tell I think.**

**This is late again... sorry. I don't know what's happening to me.**

**I really appreciate that y'all have continued reading. THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR PUTTING UP WITH MY TERRIBLY UPDATING.**


	30. Chapter 30

When Allen and Matthew approached the bedroom, they did not find Matthieu, but rather Francois, drinking from a wine bottle and dragging on a cigarette, sitting on the corner of the four posted bed.

"Well, what do we 'ave 'ere, 'uh? Would this be Canada?" He asked, though very absentmindedly.

"Uh, Allen?" Matthew looked at the counter to his father country. It was clear he wasn't sure just what to think.

"Hey, Francois. Yeah, this is Matthew. Mattie, Francois."

"Bonjour Mattie. I 'ave to say, you are quite different from our Matthieu." He leaned back and took a large gulp from his bottle.

Allen nodded. "Actually, do you have any idea where he is? I've been trying to find him but Oliver-"

"'e's in the library _with_ Oliver, idiot. Where else would 'e be?"

Matthew and Allen just looked at each other.

"He was... in there?" Matthew asked softly.

Allen didn't think twice. He turned abruptly and rushed from the room, Matthew following in confusion.

"Allen- Wasn't the library where-?"

"Yes."

Matthew ran next to him now, and could see that some tears had started to form in the corners of his eyes. Allen was very worried about his brother.

At least, that's all it looked like to Matthew.

There was something more Allen was afraid of. He just didn't want to say what it was.

**Well, well, well... I wonder what it could be that is bothering poor Allen so much.**

**Geez. I've pretty much fallen in love with this version of 2p! America. **

**I just kind of wanted to take a moment and say real quickly, that the way the 2p! characters are written in this fanfic are NOT the way I personally like to view them, that is just the way I chose them to be for the purposes of the story. In my mind, Oliver, while still being bat shit crazy, really does care about his family, and does not cause them bodily harm on a daily basis. BUT dude does make a pretty good villain for a story, so that is what I chose to do. No big deal, just saying. ;)**

**You guys are seriously the best readers ever. You put up with the crazy shit story, and the fact that I update the vague as hell chapters. I LOVE YA. **


	31. Chapter 31

"Woah..."

Alfred had just opened up the door to Arthur's study. There were books and drawers strewn all over the floor, and everything had been turned practically upside down.

"What happened in here?" He stepped over some boxes, and into the center of the room. "Whatever it was, Arthur and Mattie aren't here..."

He looked up and saw the closet door open. And there was a light coming from inside. Careful not to step on anything harmful, Alfred climbed his way over to the door and peered inside.

"Holy liberty..." He saw the fluffy pastel colored room first. Then he saw the knives that littered the walls. Swallowing he stepped back, until he was standing on Arthur's normal gray carpet.

Alfred was not one to jump to conclusions, but- Oh heck, he even knew he was. He tore through the dumped contents of the desk's drawers until he found the old pistol he knew Arthur kept there, a practical relic from his days as a pirate. Then he ventured into the only place he could think his brothers to be.

**AH Alfred terrible idea. You gone get yourself hurt... But there's that need to help others thing that seemed to annoy Arthur... But what ya gonna do? Al's a sweetheart.**

**I can't believe this has gotten over 4000 views already. I LOVE YOU GUY SO FRIGGING MUCH!**


	32. Chapter 32

Arthur was gasping for breath as struggled to keep his eyes open. He had blood everywhere. It was a miracle he was still alive, let alone conscious. Although, he was starting to wish he wasn't.

"Now, now, Arthur. Was all this _really_ necessary?" Oliver asked as he opened up a case of medical equipment on the floor in front of him. After extracting a needle and thread, he went to work on Arthur's wounds.

Wincing, Arthur watched as Oliver worked with precision on each stitch. He coughed. "Why are you doing that?"

"Well, I can't have you dying on me yet, now can I, Arthur? I'll have to let you heal first."

Arthur swallowed. For a short time, he and Oliver were both silent. He tried not to show he was hurting as the needle pulled at his skin. But he was getting tired of the pain. He started to talk again.

"You seem fairly skilled at that."

"Why thank you. I've always enjoyed needlework."

At this point, Arthur was honestly just doing anything to keep Oliver from getting to the others. And if that meant resorting to childish games, then so be it. He couldn't just let Oliver continue to slowly murder him, anyhow. Looking down at his side, where Oliver was working, he said, "I believe I'm better at it, though."

Oliver just laughed, once. Then he turned a little darker. "I'm better when it comes to medical stitches. I've had plenty of practice, what with children that don't know how to mind their tongues."

Arthur felt queasy. He looked over his shoulder at Matthieu, who was just watching them, without doing anything.

Oliver seemed to notice, though he never looked up. "Naughty little brats, those two. They've always gotten into mischief. It's good to see Matthieu has finally managed to do as he is told. As for Allen... well, perhaps I'll have to find some other incentive to convince him to behave. Pain has surely never worked." He cut the final string with his teeth, and stood up. His twisted expressions from earlier had relaxed into an almost honest smile. "Now, why don't I put the kettle on? It will be quite a few days before we can try again. We might as well make sure you are nice and comfortable."

"Yes... why not?" Arthur answered flatly. When the other man turned away, Arthur looked again at the gruff Canadian, that just blankly stared at them.

Matthieu and Allen... naughty. He smirked at that. Of course, his own Matthew and Alfred had never been _that _terrible. Oh, they definitely had their days, fighting, or smashing windows, or sneaking cookies from the kitchen - but in the end, they had always been good boys. Sweet, kind. Perhaps that's why Matthieu and Allen weren't so bad. Being based off the bad he personally saw in their counterparts, and he could honestly not say that he saw that much bad their to begin with.

The small smile faded as he realized that they weren't there. That he might never see them again. Or Francis, though he wasn't quite desperate enough to start missing him, considering the whole mess was his fault to begin with.

He felt his stomach turn again. What if he didn't make it out alive? What if Oliver did get to the others, and hurt them as well? And what of Matthieu and Allen, for that matter? Even if he managed to escape, they would still be stuck with Oliver's wrath. And the thing was, he had actually started to care about them, too.

Arthur sadly listened as Oliver hummed to himself. But he didn't take his eyes off Matthieu.

What had happened to him? One second he had been doing whatever he could to help him... and then he just stopped doing anything at all. He had even watched calmly as Oliver had tortured Arthur.

What could have possibly cause him to change to drastically?

**Woo boy. Two in one day? Why not? ;)**

**I actually wrote this one awhile back, then constantly rewrote it, cause to be honest, I suck at writing gore. I can imagine it, to an extent, but I don't know, I wanted to get Oliver to mention something about the 2p! FACE family before Arthur, and I thought maybe he would sew up Allen or Matthieu's mouths as punishment or something, and so we have Oliver instigating the conversation by getting Arthur all sewn up and ready to heal before another round of torture down the road. Who knows whether he'll ever get to. He is unaware of recent developments...**

**I do like the fact that some of you are confused about Matthieu's behavior. IT FEELS SO GOOD KNOWING SOMETHING OTHERS DO NOT. MUAHAHA!**

**But in all seriousness, it'll work itself out eventually. Promise. **

**Lol thanks again you guys! I'm really enjoying writing this, and that people also enjoy reading it makes it all the better. XD**


	33. Chapter 33

"Mattie! Arthur! Where are you guys?" Alfred had wandered into the back of the house, and then up a set of stairs. He had discerned that the place was exactly like the one he had just come from, build wise, except it was darker and there was the faint scent of baked goods hanging in the air. He held the gun out in front of him, half-expecting a monster of some kind to jump out from behind a corner at some point.

"Dudes..." He said shakily. "This really isn't funny anymore... Seriously, you know I hate this kind of stuff...Arthur?"

The sound of a door opening and shutting made him jump, and he turned around quickly to look up and down the hall.

"Who's was that? Mattie if that was you-"

A sudden blow to the head left him motionless on the floor, amidst shards of glass and purple liquid.

**Tch tch tch... we warned you it was a bad idea Alfred... Now you've been attacked by... well I'll let y'all noodle out who, exactly. ;P**

**Looks like another short chapter... but you got a very long chapter yesterday so no complaining. **

**I'M JOKING DON'T BE MAD AT ME.**

**;)**

**So. The story is developing rather nicely, I think. Cannot wait to see what ill happen next.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	34. Chapter 34

"It's- The screaming stopped." Matthew put a hand on the door. He was shaking. "Does that mean..."

"No, Mattie. It's just... Well, I don't know." Allen laid his hand on Matthew's shoulder. "But Oliver wouldn't do that unless he got what he wanted, and Arthur wasn't gonna give up that easy, right?" His reassuring expression faded as Matthew looked back at the door. He really had no idea whether Arthur was dead or not.

"Still... What if Oliver-"

"Mattie, look. I know Oliver." He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder, before taking Matthew's hand and squeezing it. "He knows his... business. As long as we get in there, Arthur will be fine. Trust me."

He had started to tear up. "I- Okay. So what do we do?"

"We... Crap- hold on..."

Allen wasn't used to thinking too often. Doing whatever Oliver told him to and swinging his bat at anything he didn't like had been all he had ever been expected to do. _Thinking_ was left to Oliver, or sometimes Matthieu, though even then Oliver had the main influence. Oh, Allen could think of his own ideas, but they had usually gotten him - and Matthieu, due to the faulty loyalty he had mentioned earlier - into big trouble with their big brothers.

But he had to shake off all that past stuff. He wasn't Oliver's puppet anymore. Seeing Arthur, and now Matthew, he wanted to be something different, something more than a person who caused destruction. And funny enough, he wanted to be that kind of person _for_ someone else. It was like he needed to prove it to someone else.

Allen snapped up a bit. He hadn't thought about it that way earlier. He hadn't thought about becoming a different person before he met Matthew.

Allen's breathing began to rush as he realized what was happening. What had happened to him, and to Matthieu, and what would happen if Oliver managed to get his hands on the others.

"Mattie, did we lock the door back into Arthur's study?"

Reddening with embarrassment, he answered, "No... should we have?"

Allen took a deep breath. "Then we better hope Alfred and Francis don't find it."

**Hmmmm... It seems Allen has figured it out. I will assume you as readers have, but if you haven't don't even worry, just look at it as more suspense. Besides, he will have to fully explain it here in the next couple chapters, so you will get it then. ;)**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing, guys! It means a LOT to me!**


	35. Chapter 35

"Well, now. What to do about you, hm?" Oliver tapped Matthieu's chest with his finger, to which no response was given. Without pausing, he pulled out his knife again, and poised it over the Canadian's chest.

"What the hell are you doing that for?" Arthur snapped from his chair. Oliver had offered him some type of drug, which Arthur had reluctantly taken. On the one hand, they could have been poisoned, on the other, Oliver wanted him alive to torture him further. In the end he had accepted. Whatever they had been, they had eased the pain considerably all over, so he was glad to have taken it. Now, he just watched - yet again the only thing he could do.

"I'm merely investigating, Arthur. No need to be so touchy." Oliver slid the blade of the knife down the man's chest. Soon, the cut began to bleed, and the shirt was stained red.

Matthieu said nothing, and his face only showed minuscule evidence of pain.

Oliver wiped the knife clean, and looked up at Matthieu's face. He put his hands on his hips and looked at him, much in the way a father would look at a child.

"Now, are you ready to join us, Matthieu, or will you be playing this game from now on?"

Matthieu gazed gloomily at Oliver, and shrugged. Still, he said nothing.

"Would you at least tell me whether or not you plan on obeying me like a good boy?"

A lazy nod was all Oliver needed. He grinned and glanced at the man tied to the chair.

"Good then." A contorted expression of intrigue passed over his fade, then he pointed at the Englishman. "Now, Matthieu, I want you to try and _kill Arthur_."

Arthur inhaled sharply, admittedly frightened at the kind of torture the burly Canadian could put him through. As Matthieu moved, a muffled cry from the opposite side of the door caught Oliver's attention, and he held up a hand to stop him.

The grin on his face spread even more, and he looked devilishly at the door.

"On second thought... Why don't we see who your dear brother has brought to visit, hm?"

**Uh oh. Look out guys, your cover's been blown! Heh, well looks like Arthur isn't on his own anymore... Although I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or not.**

**I can't believe I've been doing this everyday (meh almost) for over a month now. IT'S SO MUCH FUN. And knowing y'all are enjoying it makes it all the better ;) Love you guys!**


	36. Chapter 36

"Arthur!" Matthew struggled against Allen's arms as he tried to restrain him from banging on the door, and making even more noise.

"_SHH_! Mattie we hafta be quiet! Oh shit-"

The door flung open, and there was Oliver, standing smugly in front of a silent Matthieu.

"It's so nice to see you again, Allen dear. And look who you've brought with you-"

"MATTHEW? Why the bloody hell are you here?" Arthur shouted from his place in the library, as he saw the younger country being confronted.

"Quiet." Oliver snapped, then smiled at Matthew. "I think it's time we got to business, again. Why don't you two come and have a seat?"

For a second, the only movement was Oliver's sweeping gesture to the couch. Then Allen frantically made a decision. All he knew was Matthew could, under no circumstances, be captured by Oliver. He moved an arm defensively in front of him.

"No."

Oliver's face distorted, with a look of malice and amusement. He held his hand up for Matthieu. Then, as if signaling a dog, he gave the order. "Attack."

Allen wasted no time. He gripped the pirate book of spells he was still holding and swung it towards Matthieu's head. It hit with a solid whack, sending the larger man to the floor. He muttered a slight apology - he didn't really want to hurt him. Next he thrust the book into Matthew's hands, and jumped on Oliver, holding him inside the library.

"Run, Mattie! Get out of here!"

Hesitating only for a second, Matthew nodded and ran for the stairs - he wasn't sure why, but he wasn't really thinking at that point.

"You little brat! Let go of me!" Oliver hissed as he fought to get Allen to let go of his wrists.

"No Oliver! Enough, okay? There's no reason for us to-"

But he was interrupted when Matthieu yanked him away and put a hand over his mouth.

Oliver dusted himself off. He put an angry finger into his face. "Don't make me punish you _permanently_, Allen. I would most certainly regret it. And I'm sure you would, too."

Allen huffed. "No, I really don't think I would."

**Hmm... Well now that was an actiony chapter. I am not good at writing actions. Especially if it's supposed to happen in a matter of a few seconds. Oh well. Won't be too many of those I'd wager...**

**And how about Allen huh? Dude knows what he wants. But dearest Matthew... what is waiting for you up those stairs?**

**Thanks for the continued support!**


	37. Chapter 37

"Mmg... What the heck happened..."

Alfred slowly sat up and rubbed his head. It hadn't hurt this bad since the last time he'd gone out drinking with Gilbert and Markus and woken up on the opposite side of town. And this time he hadn't even been drinking. Or... had he? His hair was drenched in what he deduced to be cheap wine. Or expensive wine. He wouldn't know, he hated the stuff either way. His blurry vision taking a moment to stabilize, Alfred wiped his hands on his shirt. Then he remembered his current predicament.

"M-Mattie? Arthur?" Alfred stood up, and realized he was in his own bedroom. No, not his, though very similar. There was his television, along with his haphazard pile of video games. There was also an insane amount of gory posters on the wall. He gulped. "Where am I?"

After looking all around him, Alfred's eyes landed on the door. He rushed to open it, but it was locked.

"Of course." He turned on his heels, completely unsurprised. "A random house just like ours, getting knocked out, and waking up somewhere else. _Of course _the door would be locked." Alfred went to the window. "Are these bars?" Iron bars made any attempt of escape by window impossible. "Who puts bars on bedroom windows? I mean, Arthur _threatened_ to when I ran away that one time, but..." He shook his head and sat down on the bed.

For a moment, he sulked. Then, he started to worry. And finally, he was sitting upright in the fetal position, shaking. _  
_

"What if Mattie and Arthur are dead? What if I'm next? What if they're coming to get me right now?" He laughed nervously. "No... I'll bet those two are just playing a joke on me... yeah... Totally not funny guys! Heh... heh?" Alfred gulped. "Or... maybe...?"

A sudden cry from the hallway sent him into near hysterics. Alfred jumped from the bed, scrambling his hands all through his jacket for his gun, which could not be found.

"Ah damn- Where _is _it?"

When he heard the same noise again, accompanied this time by indecipherable voices, Alfred realized he recognized one of them. It was Matthew's

"Mattie?" Alfred took a step backwards, and stepped on something round. It was a baseball bat. The American picked it up, and held it in front of him. "Okay then." His face stiffened, and he took a deep breath. "Don't worry bro, I'm coming."

**WOOOOT Alfred to the rescue. Well maybe. He's still locked in his 2p!'s bedroom. That and the fact that he is terrified by anything remotely horror-movie-esque.**

**And what about poor Mattie? It would seem something has happened to him.**

**Another day, another update. How many? 37? I can't believe I've done that many. Or that you've read that many. THANKS A BUNCHES GUYS!**


	38. Chapter 38

"Well, well, well. Just what am I going to do with you, Allen?" Oliver shook his head sadly. "I've tried to be accommodating to your antics but it seems you just can't help yourself from getting into trouble. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Allen, who was being held with his hands behind his back by Matthieu, looked up at Oliver's face. He wasn't sure why he hadn't gone after Matthew yet, but he was content in stalling for as long as he possibly could. From the looks of Arthur, who was covered in stitches and bruises and gagged, he had tried the same thing. Allen cleared his throat.

"I'm not afraid of you anymore, Oliver. Hell, I don't even know why I ever was."

Oliver's face tightened, then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I have been patient, Allen. I thought that maybe you would someday see how important this all is, but I guess all you really want to do is mess around and not take anything seriously."

Allen scowled. "Fuck off, old man. I know what I'm doing."

With his face souring, Oliver sounded mortified. "_Excuse me_? What did you just say?"

"You heard me." He answered. Then he thought about all the times his foul mouth had gotten him into trouble. It would rile Oliver up to a degree, but how could he draw this out, distract him for as long as he could? He continued. "I know what I'm doing. And I do. You can consider this the biggest teenage rebellion in history. Because I'm done with you, Oliver. And I've decided I will do anything it takes to take you down."

"Allen Foster Jones you had better watch your mouth." Oliver tried to cool his temper, but he was not doing so well. His eyes were flaming, and he wrung his hands. He opened his mouth to speak again, but the door opened.

"Got 'im." Francois said gruffly. He had the pirate book of spells under his arm. Allen's heart sank.

Oliver perked up. "Well, where is he?"

Francois shrugged. "In the other room. Asleep."

"Perfect." Oliver's grin returned to his face. "So, shall I go and see what sweet little Matthew has to say?"

"No-" Allen's voice cracked a little, but he stopped himself from speaking. He jerked at Matthieu's grip on his arms, but got no where. Arthur also fought his bonds again, panic evident in his eyes.

Oliver laughed, then took a long look at Matthieu, and it seemed an idea came to his head. "I see then. I think Matthew ought to join us, now. Please excuse me." He turned and walked from the room, his step a bit faster than usual. Francois swallowed, and they locked the door behind them.

"Hey!" Allen continued to shake and shout, he had failed in stalling them. "No- Matthieu let go of me!"

And to his surprise, he did.

Arthur and Allen looked at Matthieu, a little shocked. But the Canadian did not say anything.

"Okay then..." Allen looked at the door, then, deciding they were stuck there, went to untie Arthur. He ungagged him, and started to work on the knots.

"_You brought Matthew here?_" Arthur asked as soon as he could talk.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. I didn't think this would happen."

"Why on earth did you think _that_ was a good idea? Honestly, Allen, I'd think you could show a bit more common sense." He sounded disappointed rather than angry or whatever else Allen expected from him. Arthur was also surprised. He was talking to him as if he was Alfred.

"I said I was sorry. And anyway, what happened with Matthieu?" Allen stood up as the ropes fell to the floor.

"I- I don't know. He just stopped talking and started doing whatever Oliver told him to all of a sudden." Arthur relaxed a bit, but didn't have the energy to move. Allen looked at his stitches.

"Oliver really went at you. Any internal injuries you should be worrying about?"

"No. He made sure to tell me none of my organs were in any danger-"

"Except your skin." Allen said quietly.

"What?" Arthur looked up.

"Your skin. It's an organ, actually, so not all of your organs were completely safe."

Arthur at first looked like he was about to snap, then a smile started to spread across his face when he realized it was just another one of Alfred's traits. More specifically, the fact that he was the world's largest smart ass. Arthur took a breath and looked at Allen.

"Alright, then. We have to talk about this '2p!' business. I think I know how it works, now. But first, I have something to tell you."

"Yeah? What?"

"We have you beat on the 'world's largest teenage rebellion' thing."

**One extra long chapter for my readers who waited all weekend long for me to update! I'm sorry it took so long. I was without Internet ALL WEEKEND. On the one hand, I did stuff. On the other it was AWFUL.**

**The irony is I was reading a book about revolutionaries in 2060 trying to save the world from living lives completely online. How metaphoric.**

**Anyway, it looks like things are going to be getting a little complicated, and TOMORROW YOU WILL KNOW WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON WITH MATTHIEU! HOORAY!**

**Also: who's seen How to Train Your Dragon 2? IT WAS AWESOME, WAS IT NOT? Toothless is like my spirit animal. (btw don't own HTTYD or Toothless or anything... please don't sue me)**

**Thanks for not sending me hate mail for not updating this weekend! And thanks for reading! We are up to 6,000 views last I checked. That is AWESOME!**


	39. Chapter 39

**Note: I'm going to experiment with this chapter. It will jump around a lot, but it will also be longer. Just bear with me. (Or is it bare...?)**

Alfred put a hand on the iron bars over the window. The sun had gone down, and the whole room had darkened, the only light coming from the glowing green video game console by the television. He had figured they would come for him eventually, as there was absolutely no way he was getting out otherwise. He just had to be ready.

Again, Alfred heard voices in the hallway. He hurried to the door and put his ear to it, hoping to hear Matthew's voice if nothing else. A door opened, and he jumped a little when he heard something like a war cry from the other side of the hall. Then someone shouted, and he _could _hear that.

"Drop _eet! _I said let go!"

"Allen! Arthur! Augh- Let go of me!" Alfred's pulse quickened as he listened to Matthew struggling with someone. But... who was Allen?

"I said drop eet!" A sudden thunk suggested whatever 'it' was had been dropped.

A sadistic laugh rang in the hall. "My, my, Matthew. I didn't think you had it in you. And with a hockey stick, no less." Alfred smirked and shifted the bat into his other hand. Brothers thought alike, it would seem.

"Where's Arthur? And what did you do to Allen?" Matthew sounded angry, but his voice still squeaked, like it always did when he raised it.

"Oh, calm down. That's where we're taking you." The voice sounded like it was coming from a slightly irritated person.

"Oh."

"What about Allen's?"

"Leave him, for now. If things are happening the way I think they are, we might as well get one out of the way first."

"Wait- get who out of the way... before what?" Matthew asked, sounding a little horrified.

"Don't you worry yourself, Matthew. It will all make sense in a matter of time."

And then footsteps, and all was quiet. Alfred stepped back from the door.

"What in the name of liberty on going on here?"

...

"Alright, Arthur. Let's hear it." Allen perched himself on the arm of the couch in the library, eyeing Matthieu, who hadn't moved or spoken since he'd let him go.

"Well, what we know is that you are all based off of the evil that inside each of us. But I think it's more specifically the evil or bad that _I _see in each of us. All of the things I view as bad in Alfred, for example, his need to involve himself in the affairs of others, his smart mouth, his cocky attitude, they all manifest in you." Arthur explained slowly.

"Gee, thanks." Allen frowned for a second. Then he looked up and Matthieu. "What about him, though? What changed him?"

"That's another thing. You're based off what I see as bad because I practically created you, I believed in you." He paused before continuing, a tightened expression on his face. "_But _you brought Matthew here and I assumed explained the '2p' concept to him."

"Okay, so? What's that got to do with Matthieu acting different?"

Arthur sighed. "_So, _now Matthew's views on what's bad about us mingled with mine, and now Matthieu's personality has shifted."

Allen seemed to understand, and he nodded. But then he stopped. "Then why didn't we change, too?"

"Well, I'm sure most people view themselves in a much worse light than others do. For the most part, Matthew and I view you the same way, so you didn't change." Arthur said it as he thought it, then nodded, content with his explanation.

"Damn." Allen swallowed. "So now Matthieu's made up of Matthew's worst fears for himself?"

"I guess so. It can tell you a lot about a person. I suppose we can assume Matthew's worst fear is that no one will pay attention to him, or that he won't be able to get people to at least. That's why he stopped talking."

Allen was silent for a little while, staring at his brother. He wiped his face. Arthur hadn't seen a tear, but he supposed that there had been one there.

"No, I don't think that's it." He said finally.

"Hm?"

"I don't think that's his worse fear. He's not... he isn't that self centered. It's a part of it, but it isn't his worst fear."

Arthur turned, still wincing, to look at Matthieu. "Oh, so what do you think it is?"

Allen contemplated his words. He'd never been the best at using them, but he thought they needed to be as perfect as they could be. He took a deep breath. "I think he's more worried that he doesn't speak up, and just follows orders. He's worried he'll end up hurting you or Alfred or Francis or whoever, since he doesn't always do what he personally thinks he should."

"That's a long stretch." But he sighed and nodded. "Although, I suppose it makes sense. Matthew's grown up a lot. He keeps to himself, but he's become a fairly strong nation. Fighting in past wars, right alongside Alfred. He never seems to take much credit, though." He paused, and smiled. "Perhaps you're right."

Allen smirked, but the small smile faded. "I guess that means Matthieu's gone."

"Gone?" Arthur looked back at him.

"The way he was before... He isn't gonna change back."

Arthur watched as Allen's eyes watered a bit, but he blinked them away.

"I suppose so." He looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Allen. You and your brother seemed close."

Allen wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Idiot... I was worried about him getting himself in trouble, and them _I'm _the one that fucks up." Standing, he swallowed. "I'm so stupid."

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but then the door knob slowly started to turn.

...

"OOF!"

Alfred was trying to bust the bedroom door down with his shoulder. He was not having much luck. He tried again.

"UNK!"

He rubbed his shoulder.

"Dang... What is this thing made out of?" Alfred decided to take a more thoughtful approach. "I could pick the lock, but with what?" He felt his pockets, and looked around. Then he spotted the posters. "I'll just borrow one of these..." He stood up o the bed and pulled out one of the tacks holing it in the wall. Luckily for him, it was long enough to use as a pick, so he went to work on the lock.

**One uber long chapter. Bit of a tell all, too, I guess. Hope it isn't terrible. It's hard to explain stuff without being repetitive or whatever. **

**Well now you fully understand my 2p! theory. Or I hope you do. If not, say so, and I'll work it in for them to further explain, just in case.**

**Thanks for reading! And please please please leave a review! I appreciate criticism, too, it helps me get better.**


	40. Chapter 40

Allen stood up and put himself in between Arthur and the door, just as it swung open. First, Oliver walked in, and his face soured when he saw both of them were no longer restrained. Behind him, Francois pushed Matthew through the door with one of Matthieu's hockey sticks, which had a bit of blood on the edge. At first Allen felt a surge of anger, but then he noted the red on Oliver's cheek and sleeve, and he had to grin instead. Well, momentarily, until Oliver started to speak.

"It looks as if you two have had a nice little chat while we were gone. So, tell me, have you figured it out, Arthur?"

"Have you?" Arthur coughed. "Please, Oliver, don't act like you have. It insults my intelligence."

"Hmph." Oliver's smile faltered. Then he turned to Allen. "And what about you, _child mine, _did he tell you, too?"

Allen grimaced at the pet name, then glanced at Matthew before responding. "Of course he did. What, you still in the dark, old man?"

Oliver's creepy grin stretched over his pale face. "Why, of course not, Allen. I just wanted to make sure that you were aware that what is about to happen is completely, and utterly, _your _fault."

"My... fault?" Allen squinted his eyes at Oliver, and then they widened in fear as Oliver grabbed Matthew by his hood, and yanked him in the direction of the silent Canadian to the side.

"Hey! What's-" Matthew struggled until Oliver produced his knife and held it under the young nation's chin, whilst holding a hand over his mouth.

"Oliver, what are you..." Arthur leaned to stand up, but immediately recoiled and held onto his sides, coughing up a small amount of blood in the process.

Allen took a step forward, but Oliver only dug the blade into Matthew's throat. Scowling, he went back to stand with Arthur.

"You should have just listened to me, Allen. Is following rules really all that difficult?" Oliver dropped the knife, and thrust Matthew into Matthieu's chest, who remained motionless.

"Do you know _anything _about Alfred? You really think Allen would be good at following orders?" Matthew looked up into his counterparts emotionless face, feeling very sick to his stomach. He swallowed. _The manifestation of all my worst insecurities, huh? I suppose that explains a lot._

Oliver shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't know much about him, sorry. But when we finish here, I'll get to meet the annoying little brat." He nodded to Francois, who nodded back and left the room, presumably to go and fetch Alfred.

Arthur opened an eye and glared at Oliver. "You're the only one here with any desire to make our world your's. Why force the rest of your family to help you?"

"Excuse me?" Oliver seemed genuinely surprised by the question.

"If you're the only one who really _wants _to kill us and take over our countries, then why force them to kill the rest of us?" Arthur took a deep breath and a fresh set of tears started to pool in his eyes. "Please, Oliver. Don't hurt them. Please."

The three of them turned to him, each with varying levels of surprise on their faces.

"Arthur..." Matthew said quietly, then looked at the man behind him with thoughtful determination.

Oliver shook his head and tried to hide behind a smile. "Are you groveling, Arthur? My, that is definitely not something I expected."

Allen placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder, and went in close. "Man, don't go pulling some lame-ass stunt right now."

"I'm fine, Allen." He shrugged his hand off, and slowly stood up, wincing. "Listen to me, Oliver. Just leave my family alone, and I won't even try and fight back anymore."

Matthew's attention was brought back. "Arthur, what are you saying..."

"Are you... surrendering?" Oliver's face relaxed, and he dropped his shoulders. He hadn't thought of the possibility for this scenario.

"Yes, I am. Let them go and-" Arthur swallowed hard. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he spoke as if the words themselves caused him tremendous pain just to say. He hung his head as he spoke the last bit. "-And England is your's."

**WHAAAAAAT? DID ARTHUR JUST SURRENDER? You know what's hard? Trying to get across the pain a character is feeling like that. He is torn between protecting his people, and protecting his family. Obviously it works for the story I'm writing, but I wonder, would a country develop feeling for other countries that could quite possibly come to overpower their sense of duty for the people of their country? I would like to know how y'all feel about that one.**

**On a side note, things are getting a bit hectic for me for the next week or so. I may or may not update everyday, but if I don't update for a few days, don't think I've just abandoned the story. It just means I'm super busy. **

**And, as always, thanks to all my readers, followers, and reviewers! *BIG HUG***


	41. Chapter 41

Alfred bent over to pick up the book that lay outside Matthieu's now vacated room. He recognized the cover as Arthur's.

"How did this get here...?"

It had taken him very little time to get the door open. From the feel of it, that had not been the first time that particular lock had been picked. He flipped the book open, trying to gather his thoughts, before rushing into a rash decision like he knew he was so common to do. Chastising himself for not planning better or at least going for help before rushing in to save his brothers, he suddenly remembered Arthur's torn up study.

"They were looking for this!" Alfred exclaimed. "So why did they just leave it here?"

He tucked the book under his arm and held the bat out in front of him, as he made his way down the hallway.

What could possibly going on here? All he knew was there were some - most likely - dangerous people in an entire mansion that somehow managed to fit into Arthur's closet. And he and Matthew and himself were trapped inside of it with said dangerous people. Alfred frowned. He hated thinking things like this through. Riddles were always more Arthur's thing. Well, and Matthew's, but that was mostly something he took up just to please Arthur when they were younger. He didn't necessarily _enjoy _them. But he sure didn't hate them as much as Alfred did.

Taking slow breaths, Alfred rounded corners, making sure to be much more careful than he had been earlier. Or... yesterday? How long had he been there?

He stopped and looked for a clock. It occurred to him that Arthur had locked himself inside his study the night before he went looking for them. He could have been stuck in the place he was now for that entire time. He made his way to the entry of the house, where a large grandfather clock stood in their version of the house. He hoped that perhaps it would be the same here. Which, it was. More or less.

"Really? Broken?" He said impatiently. There were knives littered up and down the sides of the sturdy wooden base, and in the center of the face. There wasn't any glass shards, so he assumed it had been like that for quite a long time.

Alfred walked to the front door. He hadn't heard a single noise since he had gotten down from the upper level, but that wasn't surprising. The mansion they shared was _huge _compared to their individual ones they had in their respective countries, and they could easily avoid each other if they wanted to. This house was no different. But there was also the possibility that they had left altogether. He tried the handle. It opened easily.

Outside were the vast expanses of land he was used to seeing, flowers and all. The only thing that seemed out of place were two amped up pickup trucks, their front ends smashed into each other. One had a giant maple leaf painted on its side, the other had an American flag flying from its antenna, practically in tatters. It looked like something he had talked Matthew into doing at one point, except Arthur had practically wrecked _them _over it, and made them take care of the mess.

Alfred shook his head to get his focus back. He started off in the direction of the back of the large house. Maybe he could figure out just where and what this place was.

**Well, looks like Alfred is out of harms way... for now. I imagine the scene he saw brought back some fond, and clearly not so fond memories for him. Also: SEE? ALLEN AND MATTHIEU WERE GOD BROTHERS AND THEY LOVED EACH OTHER AND HAD FUN TOGETHER. (Violent, yes, but fun none the less) Why, oh WHY did I have to tear them apart like that? *actual tears*  
**

**THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT GUYS! If you enjoy the story (or if you have some constructive criticism) please leave a review, it would be much appreciated!**


	42. Chapter 42

There was silence in the library for a few minutes. Or maybe it was longer than that. Arthur stood up straight now, still clutching his side, which had started to bleed again. Matthew was limp, just staring with his mouth open. Oliver's grin faded from his face after a few seconds, and now he just stood there breathing.

Allen just looked at him with wide eyes, honestly surprised that he would even considering sacrificing himself for the others. He had a hard time processing it. _Did people actually _do _that?_

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Oliver closed his eyes and put a hand up to his mouth, and slowly started shaking. All eyes turned to him. His shaking breath developed into audible chuckling, and then into full scale howling. There were tears falling from his eyes, and he was doubled over as he laughed.

Arthur felt his stomach turn again, but he wasn't so sure it was nerves this time. He needed to sit down, get proper medical attention, but he couldn't back down. He tried to remain unbreaking, but it confidence thinned as his counterpart laughed. He cast a sideways glance at Allen, who just shook his head, like he understood completely, and knew what was next was something very much not good.

Oliver started to relax, and he remained giggling as he wiped his eyes. He took deep breaths, and looked at Arthur through squinted eyes.

"Oh, come now, everybody! That was _funny_! You think giving in is going to stop me? My, my, Arthur, you're not as smart as I would have thought!"

"What? What is it?" Arthur asked, but his strength turned to devastation as he realized what he was doing was pointless. He was arguing with a madman, a complete lunatic. There was no way he could win. He stumbled backwards, and would have fallen if Allen hadn't caught him and helped him back into the chair.

The more insecure he was about himself the more dangerous Oliver became. He could actually feel himself hating himself more and more, for everything. For being so worried about conquering other countries, for his imperialistic efforts that seemed to be manifested in Oliver, for ever befriending Francis long enough to hear that stupid story, for begging his brothers to teach him magic. None of what was happening should have happened. He hated himself for it. Why did he need to learn magic? All he ever did with it anymore was entertain himself. And unknowingly create his and his family's own downfall apparently. If he wasn't so skilled with it, maybe this would never have happened to them.

Oliver watched as Arthur's soul crumbled. He was completely calmed from his laughing fit, but he was starting to look even more crazed than he had been.

"You know, Arthur, I don't think I'll be killing you _quite _yet."

They looked up.

"No, I think I could use you. And who knows..." His devilish grin grew so much they were pretty sure it was too big for his actual face. His crooked teeth only added to the illusion. "...torturing them could be _much _more fun if you got to watch me. Don't you think so?"

Arthur paled. What could he possibly do now? New tears formed in his eyes. So that was it? He let Oliver know how much he was willing to risk, and now his family was in even more danger?

He swallowed. "Oliver..."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Your groveling, while satisfying, has gotten a bit tedious. And besides that, I have more work to do before the _fun _can start. And I can't have you getting in the way." He looked to Allen. "Tie him up."

Allen was shocked he had been addressed. "Hell, no, of course not."

Without wavering, Oliver turned slightly towards the two Canadians. "Tie him up, or little Matthew here gets his neck broken."

Matthew squeaked, but didn't move away. He didn't like being a pawn, but he knew how to play that part well. He had many times over the years, for his Papa, for Arthur, and even for Alfred. He just needed to wait.

Allen scowled, then looked at Matthew with worried eyes. Feeling broken, he picked the ropes back up and started to tie Arthur's hands, who allowed him to do so.

"Good job, Allen. Now tie up Matthew over there..." Oliver pointed to a desk.

They went, reluctantly, and Matthew sat on the ground, his hands around one of the table legs. Matthew whispered words of reassurance when Allen apologized. His hands lingered on Matthew's for a second when he finished, then he stood up and stepped away.

"Perfect! See how easy obeying rules can be, Allen dear? No need for violence." Oliver said sweetly.

"I'm not obeying you." Allen said gruffly.

"Tch, tch, tch..." Oliver shook his head. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice there, poppet. I _own _you. I can make you do absolutely anything I want you to."

Allen didn't like where this was going. Oliver produced another knife from his pocket, and without warning threw them both to the book case, and they stuck into the wood with a 'chuck'.

"Now each of you, take one." Matthieu yanked one from the wall. Allen just looked at it. "Go on, Allen. Don't be shy."

Pulling the tip of the blade from the shelf, Allen turned back to Oliver.

"Now, I think it's time we play a little _game."_

**Perhaps this should have been more than one chapter... or not. A lot happened here. A lot to take in.**

**I may be a little sadistic. Maybe that is why I like Oliver so much. (But I still like it better when Oliver is being a good daddy to Mattieu and Allen. Much cuter.) And Arthur... might want to be careful with what you hate about yourself.**

**I DECIDED THERE IS A MORAL TO THIS STORY. WHO WANTS TO GUESS WHAT IT IS?**

**Lol sorry. I like to encourage reviews. They make my day.**

**Thanks for the continued support! I was in a slump but now I'm back on track with this story, so hopefully smooth sailing from now on. **

**AND HOW DOES THIS HAVE SO MANY FOLLOWERS AND FAVORITES? IT'S GOT LIKE 7000 VIEWS! YOU GUYS ARE SERIOUSLY THE BEST!**


	43. Chapter 43

This wasn't the first time Oliver had forced Allen and Matthieu to fight for his amusement. In fact, the younger two actually enjoyed fighting, to an extent, since they couldn't actually hurt each other. But this wasn't the same. Oliver was trying to make a point. He wasn't going to play his game, no matter what he did.

But Oliver did not instruct the two to fight each other. He calmly looked at Allen and smiled.

"Now, poppet, here's the deal." He pointed to Matthew on the floor. "You are going to put that knife into little Matthew over there, or I'll have your brother do it instead."

Arthur gasped, and Matthew just looked at Allen. Allen's eyes darted between Oliver and Matthew. He swallowed.

"Perhaps I need to rephrase: If Matthieu does anything to him, it will be permanent. But if you do it, he will be alright." Oliver's twisted grin only spread wider. "Still think I don't own you, Allen dear?"

He didn't move. If he didn't do it, then Oliver would have Matthieu kill Matthew. But there was no way he could make himself...

"I'm going to count to three, Allen." Oliver tapped his foot.

"Alright, alright! Fuck, this isn't an easy decision-"

"It isn't about a decision, Allen. It's about you doing as I say." He breathed softly and closed his eyes. "One..."

Allen panicked. He looked at Matthew, who was actually smiling kindly.

"It's... it's okay, Allen. I understand."

"Two..."

Allen knelt down next to Matthew, who spoke certainly. "I can take it."

Without letting go of each other's eyes, Allen stuck the blade into Matthew's side. His eyes sent silent tears down his cheeks, but he never looked away from Allen.

"Three." Oliver opened his eyes. "I see you made the right choice, Allen. It'd be a shame to lose little Matthew here this early on."

Allen and Matthew were still looking deep into each other's eyes. He felt like he had to, almost like he had to be there for Matthew, even if he was the one hurting him. He pulled the knife out and set it on the ground.

"I'm sorry, Mattie..."

"I'm fine. It already doesn't hurt anymore, see?" But it was obvious that it did.

Oliver watched the scene for a moment longer, then turned to Arthur, who had watched everything in utter shock.

"Love has it's share of manipulative strings, doesn't it?" He asked snidely.

"Love?" Arthur looked confused at him. Then he looked at Allen and Matthieu, somewhat understanding what he meant. "What could you possibly know about love?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I know how to take it away from someone, how to hurt them with it. Just another thing I've learned form _you_, Arthur."

"I..." Arthur wanted to deny it, but he knew Oliver was right. His shoulders dropped and he looked at the ground.

"I don't think I need to worry about you for the time being." Oliver grinned once again and turned back to look at Allen, who was still talking to Matthew. He felt rather triumphant. Then he remembered that Francois should have returned with Alfred a long time ago. He contemplated what he could do. "I think Arthur needs some time to his thoughts. He _really _needs to sit and just... think about all of his shortcomings." He laughed and faced Matthieu. "Why don't you we take your brother and Matthew to the attic. They shouldn't be able to cause much trouble up there, now will they?"

Not surprisingly, Matthieu did not respond. But Oliver still pretended like he did.

"Very good. Now then-" He addressed Allen and Matthew. "Shall we?"

**WHAT A CRAPPY MESSED UP WHAT-KIND-OF-PERSON-WROTE-THIS CHAPTER. But isn't it sad? And in case you missed it, Oliver was referring to Arthur having killed Joan of Arc (or having her killed), who just so happens to be my #1 pairing for Francis...**

**Goodness Oliver. Give the guy a break. A person can only take so much before they can't stand it any more...**

**And as for me, it is like 2:20 in the morning, and I got up at 7 am yesterday. I think it's time I get some sleep. I just wanted to write this while it was still fresh in my mind.**

**Thanks for reading! I hope I didn't break your heart or anything... ;)**


	44. Chapter 44

Alfred walked up to one of the back windows of the mansion. He was surprised he hadn't been followed, or even seen any of the others. Where was Arthur and Matthew? And whoever else was there, how danger were they, exactly? And why did this place look _exactly _like their home, with a few exceptions? He shook his head.

"I just need to find Arthur and Mattie. After that, I can handle whatever it is that's... that's here."

He pushed up on the window frame, glad that, like at home, the locking mechanism was still broken. After tossing in the book and bat, he crawled into the kitchen. On the table, was a plate of cupcakes. His stomach growling, Alfred slowly picked one up, and looked at it. He sniffed the pink frosting, and immediately gagged and set it down. It smelled like blood.

_Where the heck am I? _He wiped his hands on his jacket.

He made his way into the dining room, and then the hallway. If he turned right, it would lead him back into the room that led to Arthur's study. If he went left, he might run into the others. Taking a deep breath, he started in the direction of the library and upstairs. He felt his skin scrawl as the floorboards creaked.

"Aw geez... This is so creepy." He looked around the corner, and saw the library door, open. Making his way down the hall, he heard voices. Just as some people came out, he stuck himself in a doorway.

Three people came out. First, a large man dressed in a red buffalo plaid flannel t-shirt, with his long blonde hair tied behind it. Something about him reminded him of his brother. He nearly jumped out when he saw Matthew follow him out, but he stopped himself. Alfred felt the heat rise in his face when he noticed a bloody mess in his side, and that his hands were tied. Behind him, another man was shoved out, with dark brown hair, and a leather jacket, his arms bound too.

Alfred's eyes widened when he saw the man's face. Everything about him, it looked exactly like him. He felt his stomach knot up, a sudden eeriness taking him over.

The group started down the hallway in the opposite direction, and Alfred almost followed, until someone else stepped out. He was dressed in all pastel colors, just like the twin study. He had pink hair, but he couldn't see his face. When he spoke, it was in an overly sweet voice, that was laced with malice.

"Just you wait here, Arthur, and we'll take care of you friends. I think you should take this time to think about everything you can't _stand_ about yourself." With a laugh, he slammed the door and twisted the lock, and then followed the others.

When they were out of sight, Alfred rushed down the hall and unlocked the door. When he threw it open he found Arthur, tied to a chair and covered in blood and bruises.

"Arthur." He gasped in relief and rushed to him.

"Alfred?" He looked up, happy to see the younger nation. "Thank goodness you're alright!"

"Jesus, Arthur what happened to you?" Alfred started to untie the binds - was that a whip? - from Arthur's hands.

"It's... it's a long story." And one he knew he couldn't tell him. He rubbed his wrists. "Listen, Alfred, you need to go back. Make sure Francis doesn't follow you. It isn't safe here."

"I kind of figured that out already, yeah." Alfred stood up. "But what about you?"

"I'll be fine, I just need to go after Oliver and the others-"

"Who's Oliver?"

"I can't tell you."

Alfred frowned. "How am I supposed to fight someone if I don't know who they are? And I just saw Mattie. Who was he with?"

"Look, I can't tell you right now. Just go home, and- hold on." He looked at the book that Alfred had set on the floor. "Where did you get that?"

"I found it. But Arthur-"

"Give it to me. If I have that then you've got nothing t worry about."

"Dude, just tell me-

"_No. _What you need to do is go home and make sure nothing follows you. I'll get Mattie and we'll meet you there. No questions."

Alfred opened his mouth, but Arthur held up a finger.

"No questions, Alfred. I have everything handled."

"Sure doesn't look like it." He smirked, gesturing to his wounds and stitches. "Why haven't those healed yet?"

"I also can't tell you that." He stood up, wincing. "Don't worry about me, Alfred. And you aren't in any danger either, so long as you leave, and don't ask questions."

Alfred sighed, but nodded. "Alright, I get it. But if you don't make it back in an hour, I'm coming back in."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine. Stubborn git." He pushed Alfred towards the door, and followed him outside. He pointed down the hall. "Now go. And tell Francis we'll be back soon."

Starting off towards the study, Alfred looked at his older brother. "You sure you'll be alright? I'm worried about you, man."

"I'll have a better chance of being alright if you were back in our house." He was getting impatient. "Please, Alfred. Go now."

He slowly nodded, then reluctantly headed for the study. Arthur watched him leave.

"Thank you." He said quietly. Arthur turned around, and went off in the same direction as the others.

**I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS IS A STUPIDLY LATE UPDATE. I have been busy and unable to write anything at all. **

**Probably doesn't help we watched the entire season of American Horror Story: Asylum the other day. That show fucks you up mentally, nightmares and shit. I had a hard time writing Oliver after that. Mental insanity is... Well, it isn't as 'glamorous' as Oliver makes it. That being said, I can actually write again. So yay! Back on schedule. **

**I do apologize, though, for not updating. I know what it's like for people I follow to drop a story (or for internet friends to disappear altogether), so if I worried anyone, I am sorry for that too.**

**But thank you for reading thus far, and for all the support! View count is up to 8000+ views. I shall write on!**


	45. Chapter 45

"You _what_?"

"Christ, Oliver, calm down. How 'ard could it be to find a stupid book?"

Francois had met Oliver, Matthieu, Matthew, and Allen at the stairs. He had been empty handed, without the spell book or the American.

"It could be very, hard, actually, especially with the other one running around!" Oliver was seething. "Why do you have to be so _lazy_?"

"Hm." Francois sighed. "Why do you even need ze book? It isn't like you can do magic."

"I'll have you know-" But Oliver stopped himself. He ordered Matthieu to finish taking Allen and Matthew to the attic.

"You aren't gonna get away with this Oliver. You'd better be scared." Allen glared at him.

"Oh, sweet Allen." Oliver reached out and ran his fingers through Allen's brunette hair and then down his cheek, causing the American to flinch away. "There isn't anything to 'get away with.' The real world doesn't work like that. Honestly, it's like you still act like a child." Then he grinned, and shoved the other man away. He looked at Matthieu. "Now go, and make sure these two don't cause us any trouble."

Matthieu practically pulled them towards the ladder to the attic. Oliver turned to Francois.

"Well, now we have a whole new problem. That one's counterpart is running loose and most likely with the book you dropped." He stormed down the stairs. "You had better hope we find him before he finds Arthur."

Francois was amused. "Or what? Do you have plans for me, Oliver?"

"None that you would actually like, I can assure you." But he smiled a bit, glancing at the tall Frenchman out of the corner of his eye.

**Bumdebum. Another chapter, and another one on time. Hehe. Nothing much happens here, just a segway kind of chapter really. To leave you guessing, I suppose. And to remind you that I haven't forgotten this little ship. Oh yes, it is still sailing strong. ; )**

**Thanks for everything, too. (But mostly for not wanting to burn me alive for not updating for a few days. I promised an update a day, and so I should do that.) If you have something to say, please, leave a review! Every little bit helps.**


	46. Chapter 46

Arthur made his way down the hallway, slowly. He couldn't move very well, and he had to stop every few feet to regain himself, clutching at the wall and his stomach just to keep himself from falling to the floor.

"Damn..." He coughed into his hand, leaving red speckles in his palm. He knew he was bleeding internally, and quite a bit. _No matter. _He told himself. _All I need to do is find Oliver, and take care of him, and then I'll be fine_. But he was starting to not be so sure if it was really going to be that simple. He felt so weak now, having lost so much blood, and he was having a hard time thinking straight. When the time came for him to use magic, he knew it would take so much energy to cast even the simplest of spells. And a spell strong enough to kill someone? He wasn't sure he even had the strength.

Arthur thought of his country. If he died, what would become of those people? What would Oliver actually do to them? He thought of his family. They were in terrible danger right then, even more so if he allowed to himself to be defeated. It empowered him to think of them, those who he was actually fighting for.

And what about Allen? What would Oliver do to him?

Arthur shook his head. No, thinking about all those things wouldn't help. He had to keep his mind in one place, and that was getting to the end of the hall, where he'd find Oliver, and he could get rid of him. Leaning on the wall, walking with very shaky steps, he opened his book up and started looking for the appropriate spell. The most important thing was finding one that didn't require anything other than his words, but would still get the job done.

Spell after spell, though, he realized he wasn't even looking at the words anymore. His mind was fuzzy, and he he could barely make out anything but a few feet in front of him. Staggering one final time, he tried to catch himself on the wall, but he couldn't stop himself from falling to the floor.

One of the wounds on his sides had burst open, creating a puddle of blood around him.

Before his mind completely cut out, Arthur could hear the sound of a familiar voice. It just wasn't one he expected.

**I KNOW I'M TERRIBLE. I DON'T UPDATE FOR DAYS AND THEM I LEAVE YOU WITH A MESSED UP CLIFFHANGER LIKE THAT. **

***says in an adorable voice* i'm evil!**

**But yeah, I'm sorry for such a late update. We've had family in town for the 4th of July, so my internet time has been limited.  
**

**But thanks for your continued support everyone! Y'all the best!**


	47. Chapter 47

"You're going to hurt yourself."

"Hurt myself, yeah, like that's a huge deal at this point."

"I mean it. You're going to- Allen!"

"Oh fuck-!"

After being locked into the attic, Matthew had basically given up to the notion that they would be stuck there until Oliver or whoever decided to let them out, so they might as well just wait until that time came. And not causing any bodily harm to themselves in the meantime would be the best plan as well.

Allen, on the other hand, was behaving like a caged animal, stomping and clawing at the drop down door, hoping to get it to open. Matthew had allowed him to behave as crazed as he felt was necessary without any commentary - that is until Allen decided to try and dismantle an entire desk with his bare hands in the hopes of acquiring a tool of some sort. He had been attempting to kick one of the sides in when he fell to the ground, clutching his foot.

Matthew rolled his eyes then jumped down from the box he'd been perched on to aid the injured Allen.

"I told you you'd hurt yourself." Matthew shook his head as he helped Allen to sit on the desk he had previously been trying to destroy.

Wincing, Allen huffed. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He waved Matthew's hands away when the Canadian started to work at his laces.

"I'm only trying to help." He knocked Allen's hands out of the way and slipped the shoe off. Allen practically squealed.

"What the hell are you doing, Mattie-"

"Oh, calm down. You just twisted it. You'll be fine in a minute." He smiled slightly before pinching his nose and standing up. "Goodness Allen, why do they smell so bad?"

Allen turned bright red and struggled to get his shoe back on. Matthew laughed and put his hand on top of Allen's.

"I'm just joking."

"Oh..." Still, Allen finished putting his shoe back on. Luckily, the pain had already subsided.

For a few minutes, they both sat silently. When they decided to speak up, they did it at the same time.

"I'm really sorry about-"

"You know I don't think-"

They both stopped, then tried again.

"No go ahead-"

"What did you-"

And again.

"It's just Oliver-"

"I might actually-"

Until finally.

"Why don't you go first." Matthew rubbed his head and smiled.

"Okay." Allen laughed, then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about, y'know. What I had to do back there."

Again, Matthew rolled his eyes. "It's okay, Allen. I told you, I can take it. I've had worse, you know."

"Well, yeah, but it's just-"

"I'm _fine_." Matthew said. He usually wasn't one to talk so easily with anyone besides his Papa, Alfred, and for the most part, Arthur. But then again, Allen was almost exactly like Alfred. He felt like he had known him for a long time.

Allen sighed. "Yeah, alright. What did you have to say?"

"Hm?" Matthew looked up. "Oh, well, I just wanted to say that you don't need to worry about that. About what happened earlier. That was all, actually."

"Oh." Allen was a little surprised, but not too much. He looked at his foot for a minute, then over at Matthew, who had taken a seat next to him. "Can I ask you, like, a kind of personal question?"

"Sure."

"You and Arthur, and Alfred and Francis, too, what is it like, living with them?"

Matthew considered the question for a moment, not really sure how to answer. "It's like living with a family. Or, I guess a family that, uh... actually likes each other."

Allen nodded, slowly, then asked again. "What's it like, having a family that, you know, _likes _you."

"Well, uh..." Matthew could tell this was a bit of a touchy subject. He was afraid he would say something to somehow offend Allen, but he also knew he was looking for an honest answer, so he tried his best. "It's... nice. You know that they're always there for you." Then, to himself, _Even if they don't always remember you..._

"So, it's people that like you, and care about you, and they're nice to you. They don't just treat you, I don't know, like you're a tool for them to use?"

Matthew opened his mouth to respond, but then he thought about it more, and realized that maybe his description needed a bit of fine tuning. He shook his head, "I'll be honest, there have been times when Arthur and Francis have... used me as a way of gaining more power, mostly just to spite each other. And Alfred usually overshadows me, but..."

"It's different for you, because you're nations?" Allen tried to help.

"No, it really isn't, it's just..." Matthew wasn't sure how to word it. "Everyone makes mistakes. But when you care about people, the way you look at them goes deeper than that. You don't care, really, about the bad in them. You love them for who they are."

Allen listened intently, each word, though, pulling him down. He had known that what he had been living with hadn't really been a _family, _ever, but he had also never really thought about what he had been missing. It made him sad to think, too, that the only person who had ever acted like he cared, and whom he cared about, was too far gone now. Matthieu was gone. His brother wasn't really there anymore.

"Allen? Are you okay?" Matthew put a hand on Allen's shoulder, and he looked up into those wonderful purple eyes.

"I'm fine." He smiled. "And, Mattie?"

"Yeah?"

"I care about you."

Matthew smiled softly back at him. "Yeah, I know you do. I care about you, too."

**Aw, what a nice, heartfelt chapter. And I got a 'fuck' thrown in there too so basically this chapter is like a basic example of my personality. Bleh.**

**I'll apologize again for a late update, I went camping this weekend so busy busy busy. I'll try and update everyday possible fro now on (I really want to get this wrapped up before I start college in about a month or so). **

**POOR ALLEN BABY I love you so much. He's so confused, and doesn't understand emotions, and might intrude into people's personal lives... (like a certain blue eyed American we know *wink*wink*) Matthew's there for you, sweetie, he's gonna be your hero! (just don't tell Alfred he'll get jealous)**

**Thanks again for reading and reviewing everyone! This story broke 9,000 views over the weekend! I AM SO EXCITED! AAH!**


	48. Chapter 48

Oliver stared down at the red puddle that had spread to cover the width of the hallway. He was twitching, his orange-pink hair more unruffled than usual, and his jagged knife had fallen to the floor by his feet. Francois, having noted the severity of the situation, had fallen a few steps behind.

Slowly raising his hand over his eyes, Oliver continued to twitch as he breathed the words, "_It will take me months to get that out of the carpet._"

Francois nodded, "Oui."

Oliver took a deep breath, then turned around to face the Frenchman. The grin he wore was far more forced than the ones he had shown prior. "Clearly, dear Arthur has felt he has been excused. I think it's time we find him and let him know we aren't _quite _done with him, just yet. Don't you agree?"

Francois looked from Oliver to the blood behind him, then shrugged. "To be honest, I don't think there's much left of 'im, you know?"

"Until I see a _body _and I have that spell book in my hands, we look for him." Oliver snapped, and whipped back around to the bloody mess. "Go find him."

"Oliver, 'e's done for. Dead. Even if he isn't, he will be soon-"

"_I said to go find him, Francois._"

The Frenchmen sighed, then heading in the opposite direction, glaring in front of him, muttering to himself.

Oliver stared down at the spot where he presumed Arthur had lay not long before, and then he bent over to pick up his knife. Running his fingers down both sides of the blade, he contemplated what his best move would be. Suddenly, after a few moments of deep thought, he stepped right through the puddle, heading for the library once again.

He was worried, and worrying does not bode well for madmen. It drives even the darkest and craziest minds into even darker and crazier actions.

**Which is true, if you think about it. Especially in Oliver's case. I get the feeling he's a bit of a control freak and when someone comes along and messes with his power, well, he might just lose it. More than he has already.**

**So another update (but can it really be considered on time if the previous days were ridiculously late?). Maybe I won't try and rush finish it like I said I would. It shouldn't be too hard to sit and write for half an hour or so everyday, should it? *muffled sarcastic cries in the distance***

**Thanks, as always, to my lovely lovely lovely readers, followers, favoriters (that a word?), and reviewers! You guys make it all the more worth while to be writing!**


	49. Chapter 49

**WARNING: 2p! AMERICA X 1p! CANADA FLUFF AHEAD. (lol not that much but just saying that is really all this chapter is)**

"_Psst! _Mattie, hey!" Allen bent down over the attic door, trying a less violent approach to escape. "C'mon ya big jerk, it's me, Al!"

There was no response, which they did not find surprising.

"Listen to me, man! You gotta let us out!"

Again, there wasn't even a slight noise of movement from downstairs.

Allen sat back on his heels, and looks up at Matthew. "He isn't going to do anything, is he?" He asked Matthew because he was the person with the closest insight into what Matthieu was actually thinking.

Matthew sighed, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His face had a pained expression. "No, I don't think he will."

Nodding, Allen stood up.

"Hey, Allen, could I ask you a question, now?"

"Sure."

He swallowed. "This... This whole theory on what you are, it's that you're based off of the worst parts of your counterparts from the point of view of the people who believe in you, yes?" It sounded really jumbled, but that's really all they had to go off of. Jumbles.

"Er... yeah. Basically." Allen cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

"Then in that case, what you think about us would also change your character, wouldn't it?"

Allen had not thought about it that way. If he held any bad thought about any of them, would it change their own personalities.

"I'm... Well, it would make sense I guess."

"I was just- Actually I guess what I'm asking is if there's anything about me that you think, that would change him at all." His head gestured downward, where the burly Canadian was below.

Allen blushed. Was he really asking him if he thought bad things about him? How was he supposed to respond to that?

Matthew noticed the question had made him uncomfortable, so he waved his hands in front of him. "N-no, I'm not asking because I want to know, I- I just..." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Okay, so I would like to know. But more importantly, we should know if that's how this works. That's all I meant." He bit his lip.

"Oh, right..." Allen took a long look at Matthew. It occurred to him that there really wasn't much he could say bad about him. He didn't really know him that well to be annoyed or judge him about anything. "Geez, Mattie. You're perfect." The words came a little too easily.

It was Matthew's turn to blush. "Well- Well, I, uh... Thanks?"

"No! I didn't, I mean, I _did, _but... I was just saying I don't see anything wrong... with... you...?" Allen wanted to throw himself out of the window (though he doubted he could fit).

Shortly, Matthew's red face faded, and he laughed calmly instead. "Oh, you didn't say anything wrong, Allen."

Allen laugh, too, mostly just because the other was. "Yeah... But, I meant that, Mattie. You are."

"Thank you, though I promise you I'm not perfect. If I was, my counterpart wouldn't be keeping us locked in this attic right now."

They laughed for a couple more seconds, doing quite a good job of keeping their minds off of the actual predicament they were in. When they quieted down, their eyes met.

"You know, Allen," Matthew's voice cracked a bit, and he squinted. "You don't think much before you speak."

"Is that a problem?"

"When Alfred does it, yes." He shrugged "But I don't really mind it when you do."

"That's good." Allen smiled for a moment. "...Right?"

"Yes." Matthew just continued to look him in the eyes. "And, you know something else Alfred has always been annoyingly bad at?"

"What?"

"Flirting."

Allen's eyes widened as his face brightened. "You... you think I'm flirting? I mean, I could be, but I'm not, unless of course, that is what you were doing, which it wasn't so-"

"He's also bad at lying." Matthew fell back half a step, continuing to smile.

Allen licked his lips. "What else?" He half liked the way that Matthew was, as he understood it, flirting with him. He did like him, at least that is what it seemed he felt since the second he had laid eyes on him. The other half of him, though, was a little nervous about all the possibly shortcomings that would make manifest in _him_, and how Matthew felt about those.

Matthew, however, only smiled and responded, albeit a little quieter than before. "From what I've heard, he's a terrible kisser."

Yes, Matthew was indeed flirting with him, Allen decided. Which, he supposed meant he wanted him to flirt _back_.

Allen smiled, and then he too smiled. "Well, then I probably would be, too, huh?"

"We could always test it out."

The invitation was the only motivation Allen needed. He stepped over the door, careful not to trip on it, because, _that _would have ruined everything. Matthew didn't move, just watched as Allen slowly came closer.

Allen put his arms around Matthew's waist and grinned, eyes half closed. He pulled him so they were as close to each other as they could be. Matthew put his hands on Allen's chest, and curled his fingers over the tops of his shoulders.

Carefully, Allen bent forward and put his lips on top of the slightly shorter Canadian's. When Matthew started to kiss him back, Allen moved a bit more eagerly.

Matthew parted his lips, assuming Allen wanted to go bit further, but when he did, Allen hesitated and pulled his mouth away, and took a deep breath. He tilted his head forward and rested his forehead against Matthew's.

"I'm... sorry. I've just never... kissed anyone before." He sounded highly embarrassed.

Matthew was surprised, but he didn't care. He closed his eyes, just as Allen had.

"You'll get better, Allen. We'll have plenty of time to practice." But even as he said the light words, he knew in his gut they probably wouldn't, and so did Allen.

He swallowed hard. "Yeah, we will."

There wasn't any point in wasting time trying to get out. They knew Oliver would be coming for them soon enough.

And so they just stood there for a long while, eyes closed, just holding each other close.

**And yah, there's my fluffy chapter. It took me like 2 extra hours to write it because I kept trying to find fanart of these two, but there is like 1 picture in all of the interwebs I can find. I NEED MORE. I SHIP IT TOO HARD TO NOT BE ABLE TO FIND FANART.**

**Which reminds me, if any of y'all know of some art for this ship, could you please PM me with it? I would seriously appreciate it.**

**Alright, so tomorrow, or whenever I update next, I'll get back on track with the story. I JUST WANTED A CHAPTER DEVOTED TO FLUFF IS ALL.**

**Well that's it for today. BUT WAIT, WHAT'S THAT? VIEW COUNT IS UP TO 10,000+ AS OF TODAY?**

**YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME! I can honestly not believe this story has been even looked at that many times. Thank you all so much for that. It means so much to me.**

**Love to all my readers~!**


	50. Chapter 50

He could hear a bird chirping. There was also the faint sound of someone humming a nicely familiar tune.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes.

It was his ceiling. _His _ceiling. It was his boring old pale ceiling, not a pink one with random knives stuck into it. He was back in his study?

"Was I... dreaming?"

He sat up all to enthusiastically, sending shards of pain through every one of his muscles. He immediately started coughing.

"Arthur! Non! lay back down, zis instant!"

"Ugh... Francis?" The Frenchmen rushed over from the other side of the room and gently forced him back onto the sofa. "What's... What's going on?"

"I might ask you ze same question! If you were z_at _mad at me you could 'ave just said so. You didn't 'ave to go and get yourself 'urt..." Francis crossed his arms.

"Wait, wait-" Arthur shook his head. "What are you talking about? How the bloody hell did I get here, and-" He looked around his study, which was completely disheveled, aside from the side of the room where Francis had been. He swallowed. "Francis."

"Oui?"

"You brought me back here."

"Of course I did."

"... You went... In there..." Arthur pointed at the closet door, which presently was shut and a chair shoved under the handle.

Francis nodded. "Oui. I came looking for you and Matthew and Alfred. I found you... I thought you were dead."

"I thought I was, too, frankly." Arthur tried sitting up, best he could. He was pleased to find his midsection was completely bound, as well as his arms and anywhere else he had wounds. He was clean, too. Arthur looked at Francis. "Thank you, for that. And... for taking care of me." Had it been any other time, he would have been mortified at the idea of actually _thanking _the frog for helping him. But, given what he had been through the past couple days, and that he had almost actually died, he was just glad to _see _Francis.

The Frenchman smiled, and it wasn't a smirk. "De rien... Do not worry about it. I am just happy that you're alive." But his kind expression faded. "Something is going on, though. You shouldn't be dying in ze first place."

"Yes, there is. I suppose you want me to tell you what's going on?"

"Oui, but, first, tell me Matthew is okay?"

"Oh... Well I don't really know but..." He said carefully. Francis looked highly concerned. "But the last I saw him he was fine."

"Oh, zat is good to hear. I was so worried about 'im." He relaxed.

"About that... Alfred isn't here is he?"

"Non, I 'avn't seen 'im since he went looking for you and Matthew."

Arthur felt the cold hit his stomach, but the worry quickly piqued into anger. "That idiot! I told him to come back here where he'd be safe, but now's he's gone to get himself hurt or worse-"

"Arthur, please, clam down! You are still very 'urt." Again he pushed him back onto the couch.

"Yes... sorry..." Arthur sat up straight. "It's just... I told him it wasn't safe for him there. And that we were all better off if he came back here. Bloody idiot must of thought he could try one of his 'hero' stunts."

"You know 'e doesn't listen."

"Right, well... Nevermind that right now. We have to worry about what we're going to do now. First off, how long was I out for?"

Francis looked at the clock. "Nearly a day, now. It took me awhile to clean you up, but you, uh... _talked _in your sleep."

"I did?"

"Oui," Francis nodded. "You kept calling me a 'bloody frog' and cursing Antonio and Gilbert out, as well. Something about a story we told you when we were younger... I just 'ope zat doesn't mean what I zink it means..."

"I see. So you do understand what's going on, then?"

"Is that really what is happening? And why you aren't 'ealing like you should be?"

"Yes."

Francis sat down on the couch next to Arthur. "So... where did it come from?"

Arthur reddened. "Well... I- I might have created it on accident..."

"Que?! Accident? How?"

"It... I guess the story bothered me more than I thought, and I created it without knowing..." He was starting to get embarrassed.

"You were zat scared of my little story?" Now he smirked. "My, I thought you were tougher zan zat."

"I am just fine with scary stories, I'll have you know! That one... just stuck with me, is all."

Francis nodded. "I am sure..."

"Shut it, frog. And anyway there's more to it anyway. Why they're more dangerous."

"Oui, oui, what is it?" Francis stopped smirking and listened.

"Their personalities, you see, are based off of everything that others view bad about their counterparts. At least for the people who believe they exist and know what they are."

"... What?"

"Ugh... okay." Arthur rubbed his face. "My counterpart's name is Oliver. Everything he is is based off of everything bad that others see in me. So... my controlling nature, the fact I can go a tad senile... things like that. And the way we think of ourselves really overpowers the way others view us."

"Oh, so 'e is crazy, non?"

"... Yeah. And Matthew's counterpart is, well, he isn't much of anything. He doesn't speak, and he just blindly follows orders."

"Mon petit Matthew... is zat what he zinks of 'imself?" Francis looked pitiful.

Arthur nodded. "It seems Oliver is in charge there. Which in the beginning was alright, because it really only put me in danger. Our counterparts can also inflict lasting damage on us. Which is why I won't heal like I usually do."

"What do you mean 'the beginning'?" He asked warily.

"After Matthew came, and understood the situation, his counterpart changed to fit into his worst fears. Before that he was, for all intents and purposes, on our side. As was Alfred's counterpart who, as far as I know, is still relatively good."

"Really?"

"Actually, Allen - that's his name - has been rather helpful. I actually feel sorry for him, growing up in that house." He shoulders slumped. "The worst things I could ever imagine myself doing, the monster I always thought I might be... Oliver's been doing for who knows how long to Allen. I don't even want to think about some of the things he _didn't _mention, to be honest."

"Non..." Francis put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, careful to avoid his injuries, though it was nearly impossible - he was covered in them. "You aren't a monster, Arthur. Now tell me, what should we do?"

"I - Right. Well, now that you know, I suppose we had better get me back in there. The main priority is to take care of Oliver, which I can do with magic. Did you find my spell book?"

"Oui, it's over there."

"Good. Once I get rid of - hold on." He looked at Francis, squinting carefully.

"What is it?"

"You haven't asked about your counterpart yet. Aren't you interested in hearing about something that has to do with _you_?"

"Oh, well..." Francis laughed. "Usually, I would be consumed in anything to do with wonderful me, but... Not zis time. I'm more worried about where all this will be going. Besides, now zat I know, 'e will be changing, non?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Anyway, I think it's time we leave. This ghost story has ruled over me for far too long, to the point it's put the people I care about in danger. And I think I finally found the guts to do the job, too."

Francis smiled. "And I'll 'elp 'owever I can!"

Arthur stood up carefully. "I think I've gotten enough of my strength back to walk..." He shot a quick glare at Francis, "But just in case I fall or need help walking-"

Francis held up two hands. "I understand, mon ami... I zink I can keep it in my pants for one day... ohonon-"

"_I mean it._"

"Oui, I promise." Francis stood up, too, and picked the book up off the table. "Well, shall we go?"

"Yes. Let's finish this."

**Ah... But it will not be that easy Arthur, or... will it? Who can say...**

**So I watched HetaOni for the first time today (CRIED MY EYES OUT) and for one reason or another, it put me in the _perfect _mood for writing. Although, I had a hard time not imaging what would have happened had Oliver been the one running the Mansion... not a pretty thought.**

**Anyway, I wanted something to contrast the awkwardly adorable fluff chapter I did yesterday, and so I went with the caring brothers that pretend to hate each other. I think it works nicely.**

**Thanks and love to my reader and reviewers as always! _Chapter 50. I never thought I'd even get this far. _The support this has gotten means the world to me! Love ya bunches!**


	51. Chapter 51

"I can't believe Arthur tried to just send me back like that. Doesn't he know I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself?" Alfred was back in the upstairs. When he had left Arthur, he had gone around to the back staircase, and made his way back to the room he had earlier been locked in, assuming that it would be last place these other people would look for him. There, he waited for what he thought would be an appropriate time to go looking for the others. He also figured he could spend some time trying to figure out just what could be going on.

Of course, he didn't have much to go on. All he knew was there were a few people that look almost exactly like them. And for some reason, Arthur had been injured terribly, and he wasn't healing like he should have been. He also thought it odd that, when he saw Mattie being taken somewhere, one of the other people, who seemed to be a part of the other group, also seemed to have been taken prisoner. But maybe that was just his imagination. In any case, his concern was to save Matthew and Arthur. And he wasn't going to leave without them.

After a while, he must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew he was leaning against the bed, and new sunlight was peaking through the barred windows.

"Damn..." He rubbed his eyes and stood up. "I can't believe I actually fell asleep. I hope nothing happened while I was-"

"WHY CAN'T A DO ANYTHING RIGHT?" There was a screech from the hallway, and Alfred jumped.

"What?"

The voice came again, only this time it was more blubbering than screeching. "I'm too beautiful for this world! But what's the point? Everyone 'ates me!"

Alfred walked over to the door and opened it a crack. Down the hall a little ways was a man with long hair, and he was crying into the wall, having apparently sunk onto the floor. He also had a french accent. And Alfred had the sneaking suspicion that if he could see his face, it would look just like Francois.

"Je me déteste! And Oliver! 'E thinks I can't do anything! I'll show 'im!" The Frenchmen slowly stood up, struggling on his feet, raising a fist to the air. "I will prove it to 'im, I can do anything I want to!" He stumbled to the wall again, but remained standing.

"What in the world...?" Alfred opened the door a bit more, to look closer.

"And I'll start by killing that... that France." His voice grew darker. "I'll be the first. That way, Oliver will 'ave to believe I am strong. Oui."

"Kill... France?" Alfred let the door close again, and he felt his heart start to thud harder and faster. He swallowed. "He can't be... serious. We don't die... right?"

Alfred stumbled back a few steps. Arthur was hurt... And he had sounded so worried about everything. What kind of place was this?

**So just in case I have cause confusion, it is my own belief that while France is the way he is, I also imagine him having a really, _really _low self esteem. So basically, his 2p! has an even lower self esteem. And he outwardly expresses it. A LOT.**

**And Alfred... just how long will you be able to evade the 2p!'s and knowledge of what they are...?**

**Thanks again to all of my wonderful reader, reviewers, and followers! And to the ones who've only just come along the past few days, welcome to the struggle of not knowing whether I will update everyday or not.**

**And one more thing, y'all should know I'm a little, no a lot, crazy, if you haven't figured that out. I WILL DO ANYTHING TO THIS STORY. I'll just let you imagine the horrors that could mean... Mahahahaha...!**


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